


The Warmth of Home

by Jenn_Harper



Series: Another Kind of Odyssey [1]
Category: Ancient History RPF, Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Relationship Development, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, thalexios
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 42,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23646163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenn_Harper/pseuds/Jenn_Harper
Summary: After the events of Odyssey, Alexios has been hiding from the world, loitering in the northern regions of Greece. When he decides to return to Athens for the winter, Demosthenes seeks him out for a job only he can do - whether he wants to or not. This leads him to cross paths with Thaletas again, discovering that this old flame burns the brightest of all.Most of the characters are taken from the game, with a few exceptions (Thaletas’ family in particular), and I've ignored most of the mythical stuff and the DLC's.I hope you enjoy it! Harper :)
Relationships: Alexios/Thaletas (Assassin's Creed)
Series: Another Kind of Odyssey [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868671
Comments: 28
Kudos: 95





	1. The Past, the Future.

Late autumn, 419 BCE 

From a prominence in Makedonia, Alexios looked down over the foothills that ran down to the sea in the distance. He was tired – it had been a long day of hunting, dodging bandits, and gathering the necessary items to make a few changes to his armour he had been thinking about.  
He sighed, and leant against the tree at his back, and allowed his eyes to fall closed, and without even realising he was doing it, he fell into a meditation. As if he was living it all over again, he saw himself board the ship with his shoulders squared, determined not to look back at the island...

Spring, 424 BCE 

He took up his position at the helm, and staring straight ahead, ordered Barnabas to set a course for Athens.  
The ship slowly eased away from the dock, the air full of the grunting of the rowers below decks as they bent their backs to their work, the cries of gulls, and the splash of the oars in the water.  
As the vessel turned out into the strait between Mykonos and Delos, leaving the shelter of the island behind, the wind picked up, full of the scent of oncoming rain.  
Barnabas commented, ‘That storms coming right at us from Chios. We should have made an offering to Poseidon.’  
Alexios’ face remained tense, but he said, ‘We’ll make good time to Athens, then.’  
As though picking up on his mood, the crew began to sing that song which, only brief weeks ago Alexios had told them to stop singing, because it was too sad to listen to. Now it chimed with his feelings perfectly. How much his world has changed in so short a time. How grim he felt about everything.  
Without meaning to, he glanced one final time up towards the villa on the hillside; they were still close enough that he could pick it out from the levels of houses below it. He unwillingly imagined Thaletas, watching him leave – feeling what? - and surely Kyra by his side, glad to see the back of the competition, the jealous tone of her voice at the party still ringing in his ears.  
His mind drifted as the sails were dropped, and bellied out in the strong wind. The rowers pulled in the oars, and there was only the sound of the water against the hull, the singing of the men, and the distant booming of thunder behind them.  
Alexios sighed deeply, glad that the wind swept the sound away unnoticed by Barnabas. He would want to know what had happened, and Alexios wasn’t ready to talk about it yet, if he would ever be.  
But thinking – that he had not stopped since the symposium the night before.  
He’d gone from the party to Delos, stealing a small boat at the port so that the crew wouldn’t know he’d gone. The contrast of the cold and dark after the almost claustrophobic crowd at the symposium calmed him down. He’d crossed the island and found his way to the ruins.  
Thaletas had taken him there first, explaining that it reminded him of home. They had spent a golden afternoon together there; they’d sparred, talked, made love, and for a brief time, finally been able to share something of the burden of the war and all they had lost.  
The towering columns and broken-down walls had whistled in the wind, giving the place an eerie quality, which reminded Alexios of the far north, the wilds of Makedonia. He had spent months there, travelling through untracked wilderness, hunting and seeking out the fabled workshop of Hephaistos, alone except on those rare occasions he met with a camp of Daughters. The whole experience had left him with a strange sensation of his tiny existence in a large world that he had never truly shaken off. That same sensation was to be found in those ruins. He recognised it like the embrace of an old friend, kindred to his own heart. He could see why Thaletas liked to come there, to be alone with his thoughts, to remember what lay behind, and grieve for what was lost – just as Alexios had done that night, sitting by the lonely fire.  
He’d run over it all again in his mind, trying to understand what had happened. The bare facts did not tell him anything: He had met Thaletas at the beach, they’d declared their love for one another and their hopes that they might be together one day, though it was not possible just then. It had felt real and intense. Then, Alexios had spoken with Kyra beside her father’s pyre, done his best to comfort her, and she had smiled wanly, and allowed herself to be talked into joining everyone in the villa to drink and celebrate.  
Alexios had felt that he’d done the right thing – he couldn’t help his love, but he had made no false promises. Kyra had appeared strengthened by fresh resolve.  
He smiled grimly to himself. For all the good taking the higher path had done him!  
He shook his head. He had joined them both at the symposium, only to have Thaletas announce that he and Kyra had decided to stay together on the islands! She had made some snide remark about the two boys having had their fun, which Thaletas made no attempt to contradict.  
Alexios remembered with bitterness the long moment he’d looked into Thaletas’ eyes. For a brief moment he’d encountered an entirely new sensation; it was as though the floor was falling away from beneath his feet. He was so used to being in control of everything, so used to not caring enough about anyone to get hurt, he hardly knew what to do with himself. He’d mumbled something about being happy for them – Happy for them!  
He snorted to himself. About as happy as he’d have been waking up one dozy morning in bed with the Monger!  
Alexios smiled at his own joke, but the smile evaporated almost immediately.  
With the first attempts at resignation, he told himself that Thaletas must be a liar, and a fake. A bastard Spartan who thought only of duty and honour, never of the human cost to those around them. Just like Nikolaos.  
Alexios admitted to himself that he could not believe those beautiful moments of warmth and acceptance, when he and Thaletas had shared themselves, their real selves, with each other, or that the pleasure of finding someone who finally understood, could not have been imagined; but just because he had felt that himself, it did not follow that Thaletas had; and if he had, Alexios was right back to not understanding what in the name of all the Gods he was thinking staying with Kyra.  
He attempted to stop thinking about it again. He knew he had to build a wall back around his heart – the wall he had always thought was impenetrable, but which Thaletas had broken down as simply as a child knocking over a stack of wooden blocks. He was determined that everything he had thought he had felt for the Spartan should be locked away in a strongroom, like the one he had seen in the Ancient Stronghold. Built far from the crowds, guarded by elite solders, protected by a combination no one would ever know.  
His mind was taken from this train of thought by a cry from the men – ‘Pirates!’ – and for the immediate future, what had been and was no more was lost to him in the immediate events.

They had made good time to the Attika coast, but in aid of avoiding a confrontation with a bounty hunter in his red-sailed ship, they had been forced to approach along the narrow strait to the west of Salamis and Aegina; and as it grew dark, Barnabas insisted they dock at Kechries.  
Alexios left the ship without really wanting to, driven by a deep and irresistible urge to revisit the scene of hurt, like a boy worrying at a sore when it begins to heal.  
The port had not changed since he had been here last, some six months previously. There was the same bustle of people, still stray dogs wandering around and cocking their legs with no one to stop them. He passed along the waterfront, and approached the house that stood facing the water.  
He stood for a long time in the dusky light gazing at the house. It had once been a tavern, but had, for some year’s past, been the home of Lykinos and Timotheos, a pair of brothers who had been grieving their father when Alexios met them. He could see the interior details clearly in his mind – the tapestries on the wall, the small kitchen always smelling of fish, and the dog that had adopted the house and the brothers without their wishing it to.  
The front door was still open, and though there were lights inside, no one was coming or going. He could see, even in the growing dark, in the enclosed porch, that the bloody handprints on the wall, and the drag marks across the pavement were still there. He wished someone would do something about them, but there must be no one that was willing to claim the house.  
He sighed deeply and turned away.  
He told himself he had done his grieving for Timotheos; but being back here brought the memory of his face back to Alexios so sharply, it felt he had seen him only the day before. He had half expected to see him down on the jetty fishing, where he so often had been.  
He had had misgivings about getting involved with them from the beginning. It had been clear that both brothers had been interested in him, and he hadn’t wanted to come between them; but despite his best intentions, things had changed.  
He thought he could trace it to the day that Timotheos had looked up at Alexios and told him that he finally felt hope – and all because of Alexios. It had melted him a little – enough that he held Timotheos in his arms, and cared for him. He’d returned a few times to see him, though Lykinos had been gruff to the point of rudeness, having never forgiven Alexios for choosing his brother. In the end, Alexios had kept his distance… until the situation with the bandits, and the Monger…  
He was momentarily overwhelmed with guilt. That one decision – how he chose to execute his target - led to the murder of the brothers; and while the reality was that he had killed many people in his life, somehow these indirect deaths of two entirely innocent men had been harder to bear than most.  
He was ashamed with his own reactions to the matter. He’d lost his mind and stormed into the Mycenae ruins like Ares himself, and destroyed every living soul there. It hadn’t helped. The guilt remained. Only time had eased that feeling, but he had been determined not to risk his feelings like that again. So it might have remained, too, had it not been for Thaletas.  
He had reached the temple, and found a quiet corner near a brazier where he stretched out with his eyes closed. Just as he was drifting into dream, he imagined that Thaletas was with him, the warmth from the brazier perhaps fooling his senses. 

Late autumn, 419 BCE 

He opened his eyes with a great effort, annoyed with himself. It wasn’t the first time that his mind inflicted the memory of that particular sequence of events on him as he meditated – the difficult parting with Thaletas, followed so closely by the visit to that cursed port. It was as though the two things had burnt themselves intensely onto his inner eye. He had never been able to forget, even with the passage of years. He had done a lot of living since, and it no longer caused him pain to remember, but neither did it go away.  
He shook his head at himself. Timotheos was dead; Thaletas was the gods knew where, if he was still alive – the war, supposedly ended by the Peace of Nikias, was wearing on, and the chances that he had survived this long…  
He shrugged it off. There was no point thinking about that. He could do nothing about it. He prodded at the fire in a desultory way, before looking up. He saw that the sun was just dipping below the horizon. He pulled a bear pelt around his shoulders.

He wasn’t sure why he had come here now, to the north of Makedonia; only that he had made enough money to take a break from taking contracts, and the Daughters had welcomed him back – as much as they ever welcomed him, anyway. They accepted his leadership with an air of resentment that reflected his own feelings. He had remained surprised that the goddess had chosen him to lead her daughters; but he didn’t question the way things worked out anymore. If he started down that path, he thought wryly, he would drive himself to madness.  
He’d come to Makedonia at the beginning of autumn. It was nearing the opening of winter now, and he would need to move on soon, he thought. It would be snowing before long, and besides that, he was growing maudlin.  
He would go to Athens, he decided. Then perhaps he would return to Sparta to visit the family – perhaps.


	2. A Dangerous Bounty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The General stood. ‘We’ve had a long and fruitful working relationship up until now, you and I. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t extremely important.’ Nothing had changed in his face, but there was a veiled threat in his polite words.  
> With the best possible grace, Alexios said, ‘It is that serious?’ and when the General nodded emphatically, he sighed. ‘Well – Since you insist. I suppose one more can’t hurt.’

Autumn/Winter 419 BCE 

They brought the ship into the harbour at Piraeus just after dawn. The port was bustling with people and animals as always. Re-joining the Adrestia at Potadeia had been a strange experience; Alexios had become so accustomed to the quiet and the emptiness of the woods, and had found it strange to be amongst so many people again; but that was nothing on the busy energy and hustle of Athens.  
Alexios made his way through the stacked crates, cranes and stalls, avoided eye contact with everyone and set out on the long walk across the city.  
Near the eastern gate, he kept a small, one room house. He had a home nominally in Sparta of course – but he thought of that as Nikolaos and Myrrine’s house, for all that they insisted it was his home too; there were many places that he thought of as a kind of spiritual home – favourite temples and guesthouses he frequented when exhausted beyond rational thought. He had never been a good sleeper – too on edge, expecting to get jumped or attacked by animals at any moment – but sometimes he just had to stop. He liked the city of Orchomenos – there was a nice guesthouse there that always welcomed him; there was a place he liked to stay on Naxos, too; but the only place that could be perceived as anything like a permanent home was in Athens.  
The house was small, luxurious, and practical – being close to the gate; not more than a few moments from the Agora and a very fine blacksmith; and it stood beside the small river that flowed through that part of the city, so he could wash himself without hassle, then return home without more than a half a dozen people having seen him – just as he liked it.  
It had been expedient to take a house in the city years before, during the time he had been obliged to spend many months in the city searching for information about his mother’s whereabouts. Once that was all over, it had seemed natural to keep the house. He had come to like the feeling of having somewhere that he could retreat to, that no one knew about – and he imagined that no one who knew him, not even his Athenian friends, would imagine he’d choose to live in Athens.  
He entered the house in an unhurried way, and as darkness was falling, he undressed, left his armour and weaponry behind except for the spear, and went to the river. He immersed himself into the icy cold water, sighing with the relief of being out of armour, of being clean, of feeling anonymous in the great bustling city around him. He felt the water rushing over him, allowing all the thoughts in his head to sweep away. Tonight, he was home and could relax; tomorrow he would have to go into the agora and look for work on the board to pay the men, and only the gods knew where that would take him.  
He emerged from the water some time later, feeling refreshed. He clambered up the wall and ducked through the bushes that led to his door, half noticing three Athenian guards standing in a cluster nearby; he was certain they didn’t see him. It was only when he pushed the door closed behind himself that he realised someone was in the house. In a fluid reflex, he thrust the spear at the man’s throat.  
He was familiar, but it took him a long moment to realise that it was the Athenian general, Demosthenes. Alexios had never seen him out of uniform before. He was dressed in a richly embroidered dark blue tunic, edged with white. He was standing uncomfortably, and flushed slightly when he saw that Alexios was in a state of undress – and the spear only a short way from his throat didn’t help.  
Alexios grinned, and dropped his arm, putting the spear onto the table next to the food he’d dumped when he entered the house. He made his easy way past the General, and ducking behind a screen, began to dress himself. As he did so, he said, ‘Sorry for the unfriendly welcome, General. I didn’t recognise you.’  
He expected that his visitor had taken the chance to look through the contents of his baggage – he glanced at the stack of items where he had dropped them, and thought that if the General had searched, he’d done it in such a way that Alexios couldn’t tell. There wouldn’t be much there worth reading anyway, he thought. Old letters, mostly related to the cult which he still carried, though he couldn’t say why; some clues to the locations of other mercenaries; a few sentimental items. Nothing that would provide the spy with anything useful.  
Demosthenes chuckled. ‘That’s understandable. It’s not often I’m out of armour. I spoke at the Pnyx this afternoon.’  
Alexios emerged from behind the screen dressed in red. He hadn’t thought about this as a statement, but there was something in Demosthenes’ face that reminded him that this was the colour of Sparta. He smiled slightly. ‘What was it that you needed?’  
Demosthenes said, ‘The people have agreed that a misthios needs to be hired to take out a particularly high-profile target. It will take discretion and…’ He hesitated for a moment, before he continued, ‘and I wouldn’t trust the task to anyone that I hadn’t tested myself.’  
‘Who is it?’  
‘A Spartan spy named Isadas. He’s going to be hard to trace as he’s proven to be as slippery as a fish, though there are rumours he’s in Arkadia. At this stage, we don’t even know what he looks like, but we know where he comes from in Lakonia – Mesoa. We need someone to go to the village, learn what they can about him and find out where he is. Of necessity, that would need to be a Spartan.’  
Alexios slowly shook his head. ‘I told you years ago that taking out Spartan targets was no longer an option for me.’  
Demosthenes narrowed his eyes slightly; but, ever the politician, he asked, ‘You never did say why?’  
‘I just take small jobs these days. Life is long, and I’ve seen too much death already.’ It was a part truth, at least. Alexios had told himself that now he was nominally a Spartan citizen, taking out Spartan targets was a betrayal – not of Sparta, towards whom he owed nothing, but of his family, who were deeply vested in the fate of the city.  
The unacknowledged reason was something else entirely, though - a small but persistent voice which pestered him with the question: If Demosthenes asked him to kill Thaletas, would he take the job? The answer was indisputably no – even when he had been at his angriest. There had been a close call once; that was enough.  
The General stood. ‘We’ve had a long and fruitful working relationship up until now, you and I. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t extremely important.’ Nothing had changed in his face, but Alexios didn’t miss the veiled threat in his polite words.  
With the best possible grace, Alexios said, ‘It is that serious?’ and when the General nodded emphatically, he sighed. ‘Well – Since you insist. I suppose one more can’t hurt.’  
Demosthenes smiled. ‘Good! I’m glad you accept.’ He handed Alexios a slip with the details of the job noted on it, along with the fee – which despite the grim feeling in his chest, Alexios acknowledged was extremely generous. ‘I’ll look forward to your report when the job is done.’

It was a long journey, travelling south along the east coast of the Peloponnese and then north again, up to the port of Gytheion.  
They arrived in the mid-afternoon of a windy, unpleasant day in late autumn. He didn’t think the sky was threatening rain, but you never knew in these parts.  
As he approached Sparta, the looming red columns with the statues above, and the intimidating temples on the akropolis behind, made him grimace a little. There had been a time when he thought he would never come back here; now he was supposed to think of it as home, but the truth was that the memory of what had happened to him as a child could not be so easily pushed aside, for all his Mater’s insistence.  
He’d noticed that Kassandra and he were the same in that respect, if in no other. They neither of them could stay in Sparta for more than a few months at a time. Natural wanderers, he supposed, or made that way by experience. In any case, there was no curbing them now.  
Demosthenes had told him that Isadas was from the town to the south of Sparta, called Mesoa. He intended to cut through the city and go directly there. He was hoping to find the man’s family who, if he was optimistic, he thought might tell him where he could find the spy – though more likely, they would tell him to go away. If it proved to be a dead end, then he would have to track him the hard way, trailing from one side of Arkadia to the other.  
He grimaced. Just what he didn’t want to be doing during winter.  
He had just turned aside, onto the road leading to Mesoa, when he was hailed by his mother, who had been speaking with a large group of women, but came towards him with a welcoming smile.  
He returned her greeting and dismounted. ‘Mater,’ he said as he rested his forehead against hers.  
‘Lamb. I didn’t know you were coming back so soon.’ She stepped back and looked him over, then nodded to herself. He grinned at that - she must be satisfied he was eating enough and keeping up with his training. Then his smile faded as he said, ‘I hadn’t meant to, but work.’ He shrugged.  
She gave him a long look. ‘You haven’t come here to…’  
He interrupted her. ‘No,’ – it was true, he told himself, he would be doing the murdering in Arkadia in all likelihood - ‘I’m on my way north to Arkadia, but I thought I’d check that everything was well in Sparta; plus, I must track someone down.’  
‘Who?’  
‘You might know him. He is called Isadas of Mesoa.’  
Her frown grew deeper. ‘He’s a member of the Krypteia – one of the sons of the ephor, Diphridas.’ She gave him another searching gaze. ‘What do you want from him?’  
He smiled at her, trying to be reassuring. He was sure it didn’t work. ‘Just information, Mater.’  
She still did not look totally convinced, but allowed the topic to pass. ‘You’ll come home tonight? Your sister returned last week. She’ll be pleased to see you.’  
Alexios let himself be persuaded, though he thought that Kassandra being pleased about anything was a faintly ridiculous idea. ‘I’ll just ride over to Mesoa first.’

The township of Mesoa was built into the side of a steep hill, and was replete with grain silos, olive trees and a bunch of children who were clearly not yet old enough for the agoge. They were throwing olives at one another from where they had fallen and begun to rot. Alexios shook his head. He remembered doing the very same thing when he was a boy.  
He asked a few of the women he passed whether they knew where he might find the family of Isadas, and each time, his question was met with a cool, unfriendly look. If he hadn’t known that the man was a Krypteia from his mother, it wouldn’t have taken him long to figure it out from this tight-lipped response.  
It was not a large village, and before long, he’d followed the one looping street up the hill to the end, a place where the sick gathered for healing. He sighed in exasperation, and turned back; that’s when he noticed an elderly woman seated in a small yard, where a helot was slowly grinding flour. She was watching him with a hawkish eye.  
‘What do you want here?’ she demanded. Not rude, exactly, but definitely unfriendly.  
‘I’m looking for the family of Isadas. I need to speak with him, and was hoping I might find someone to point me in the right direction.’  
The old woman gave a short bark of laughter. ‘Speak with him? Since when does a misthios talk?’  
He grimaced inwardly at the truth of that. He sought to assure her, ‘I’m a Spartan citizen, the grandson of the hero king, Leonidas. I might be a misthios, but my loyalty is to Sparta.’  
She demanded, ‘What’s your name?’  
‘Alexios.’  
‘Oh ho! So you’re the boy that pushed the elder off Mount Taygetos, then got tossed down there himself! I heard people saying you were back from the dead, you and that sister of yours.’ She slowly shook her head. ‘There’s no justice in this world. Many great men die of sickness in their beds, while by all reports, a man as rotten as yourself returns from each battle alive and covered in glory.’ She scowled heavily. ‘Leave this place. No one will help you here, misthios.’  
He considered threatening her, but he knew when he came up against someone who couldn’t be pushed; so he did as she suggested, following the road back down the hill. He was considering what he might do next when his attention was caught by a woman of about his own age who was boldly staring at him from inside a small shrine. For a moment he thought she was a heterae, and was just turning away disinterestedly, when she called him by name, gesturing him into the shrine with her.  
He quirked an eyebrow, but went in. By the light from the door, he saw that she was dark-haired and pretty, though in a lackadaisical, frayed kind of way.  
‘Do I know you?’ he asked.  
She shook her head, and hesitated for a moment. ‘I heard you asking about Isadas in the village.’  
Alexios nodded. ‘I’m looking for him. Do you know where he is?’  
She looked nervous, and for a moment he thought she was going to rush away, but at last she cleared her throat and said, ‘I do know, but I’ll only tell you if you agree to kill him for me.’ As an afterthought, she added, ‘I can pay you.’  
Alexios considered this for a moment. ‘Why do you want him dead?’  
She flushed. ‘I'm Elene. He was my lover, secretly, right until he came of age. He’d always promised me we’d marry, but when the time came, he married another.’ She was clenching her fists by her sides. ‘Now he won’t even see me, misthios. I’ve been betrayed - used and cast aside. Help me right this wrong!’  
Alexios thought about this for a moment. If he didn’t already have the contract from Demosthenes, he would never have agreed to do what she asked. He could sympathise with her suffering, but he knew that jealousy was the worst of all reasons to kill someone, leading almost always to regret and suffering. Then again, since he was going to kill Isadas anyway, he wasn’t opposed to being paid twice for it; and the gods knew he needed the information. He nodded. ‘Alright. Tell me where he is.’  


After weeks travelling the forests of eastern Arkadia searching for Isadas, Alexios knew he’d made a mistake trusting the woman’s information alone. She’d said he’d find the Krypteia just over the border of Arkadia at a bandit camp, where he was supposedly stirring up discontent against the Athenian garrisons of the region. It had sounded entirely plausible. He wasn’t sure if she had intentionally lied, or whether she’d just been misinformed - both were equally likely.  
In either case, he cursed her, and his own foolishness. He should have spent longer searching Sparta for specific details; but he’d believed what she said; and besides that, he admitted to himself, he’d been in a hurry to leave the city again. His mother had been very watchful while he was there, and he’d felt the guilt returning; guilt that he was going to kill another Spartan, and that he had already lied to her about it.  
He just shouldn’t have taken the damn job, he thought for the hundredth time. Winter was imminent now, and in another week or two, he would have to find a hideaway somewhere, and the job would have to wait. Aside from not liking to leave jobs unfinished, the way Demosthenes had spoken, Alexios had every reason to believe that any delay was liable to be misunderstood back in Athens.  
It was late afternoon when he settled a short distance from the camp he was seeking. It was built around a burnt-out, half toppled farmhouse, and overlooked fields to the north. They were very near the border of Arkadia and Sparta here. He’d checked this camp before, but a new boldness he’d observed amongst a group who’d tried to rob him that morning had led him back. His instincts told him that there was something out of the ordinary here.  
Time passed; the sun set and the moon had risen when he saw a pair of riders approaching. At first he thought they were just travellers on the road, but they turned into the enclosure and were welcomed warmly.  
He saw immediately that he had not been wrong to check this place again. The leader of the group was deferential towards one of the riders, which made Alexios smile despite himself. Anyone would think it was one of the Spartan kings on the horse, the way the bandit leader bowed and scraped.  
Alexios knew without a doubt that finally, he had found his man. Though Isadas was dressed in bandit gear, and looked as scruffy and despicable as the rest, the longer he watched him, the more Alexios noticed that he carried himself differently than the rest of the group: he stood taller, walked straighter, held his nose just a fraction too high in the air - entirely like a Spartan.  
There was something else about Isadas that brought a frown to Alexios’ face: He looked familiar, though he couldn’t place where he might know him from; but he quickly dismissed the thought. He had met so many Spartans during the campaigns of the preceding years, it wasn’t an unusual occurrence.  
He bided his time. The less noise he made here, the better. He was too tired to relish an all-in brawl, and if no one saw him at all, so much the better. Quiet and tidy - that was the plan.  
For once, luck was on his side. While the bandits drank a lot of wine, and were soon singing blurrily around the fire, Isadas took himself off into the burnt-out farmhouse alone yawning widely.  
Alexios followed. Without difficulty he slipped past the sentries unseen, and silently opened the door he had seen Isadas enter, closing it gently behind himself.  
The shutters of a small window had been smashed off, leaving only a broken fretwork covering the opening. The moonlight entering the room was bright enough to light the Spartan’s face where he was sleeping, and as Alexios approached the side of the pallet, he felt his breath catch in his throat. Up close, the vague familiarity became entirely obvious – Isadas looked very much like Thaletas.  
Alexios’ mouth went dry, and for a long moment he was confounded, his feelings in tumult.  
After a moment, he managed to get a grip on himself. It wasn’t Thaletas, he could see that. No. The chin was different, the face was more angular, with a different slant to his cheekbones. This was Isadas, the Spartan spy, stirring up trouble in Arkadia; not the man Alexios had fallen in love with long years before, and for whom he still ached if he allowed himself to think about him at all.  
He took his spear and held it to the Isadas’ throat, which woke the spy. For a moment, he looked up at Alexios – the dark silhouette of him, anyway – without reacting, before he realised what he was seeing. He gasped.  
‘Don’t make a sound,’ Alexios said menacingly, ‘Or I will end you here and now.’  
The man scowled, but obeyed.  
‘Tell me who you are. You’re no ordinary bandit.’  
‘I’m Isadas of Sparta.’ He said, his natural arrogance in no way diminished by fear. ‘And you’re the Eagle Bearer, I suppose. I heard you were tracking me.’  
Alexios said, ‘And I’m sure you can guess why.’  
‘Then kill me,’ he said.  
Alexios hesitated, but couldn’t help himself. Against his better judgement, he said flatly, ‘I think you know General Thaletas.’  
Isadas set his mouth in a thin line.  
Alexios pressed the blade to his throat, drawing a little blood. ‘Do you know him?’  
‘He’s my brother,’ Isadas grunted. ‘Though we have different mothers.’  
For a long moment, Alexios considered this information. His brain had gone remarkably blank. He just stared down at his intended victim. Seeing the face before him, that bore such a similarity to Thaletas, had completely thrown him. Something in his heart had clenched and refused to relax again.  
Fuck. What was he going to do?  
Isadas sensed the hesitation in him. ‘You know him?’ When Alexios didn’t reply, he said gently, ‘You more than know him?’  
Alexios removed the spear, and in a fluid movement, stood and stepped back from Isadas. He said, his voice as hard edged as he could make it with the lump in his throat, ‘There’s an Athenian General who knows who you are, and wants you dead. They’re coming for you. You need to be more careful.’  
Isadas rubbed at his throat, and looked up towards Alexios, though he couldn’t see his face. He scoffed. ‘I don’t fear Athenians, nor your kind, either.’  
Gods, Alexios thought, it could almost be Thaletas speaking the day he’d challenged Alexios to a fight on Delos. There was the same defiance in Isadas’ words, with the same edge to his voice: he must know Alexios could kill him with one stroke if he chose, but he knew that he wouldn’t.  
Alexios went to open the door then; but as his hand rested against the rough boards, he paused, and turned back. His voice was gentle. ‘Is he still alive? Thaletas?’  
Isadas looked in the general direction of Alexios’ voice – he could no longer see even his shape in the gloom. ‘He was in the summer, when I was last in Sparta.’  
He heard a heavy exhalation of breath, and then the door swiftly opened and closed.


	3. A Friend...Or a Foe.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thaletas returns to Sparta.

Early Winter, 418 BCE.

The horses ambled north from Gytheion towards Sparta, carrying the last of the soldiers who were returning to the city for the winter. This group had come from Naxos, where most of them had been since the previous spring, except the notable exception, their General, Thaletas. He rode upright in the saddle, teeth gritted against the ache in his wounded leg. He had been wounded by a pirate, of all things, and the wound was stubbornly refusing to heal, and he had a slight limp which embarrassed him. He shifted his shoulder within his breastplate, looking forward to being free of it. Even though Sparta and Athens were officially at peace, it still paid to be cautious on the roads.  
He patted his mare’s neck in an affectionate gesture. She had carried him wherever Sparta had ordered him to go, from Boeotia to Messenia; she had been with him on both Mykonos and Naxos; and now, she was finally carrying him home.  
It had been eleven years since he had left the city; since he had seen his mother; since he had left the agoge; since he’d laughed and joked with the boys he’d grown up with - most of whom, he thought sadly, had been lost to the war. Of course he could have returned each winter, especially after he was promoted, but he’d always volunteered to remain in post. He never asked himself why; but now that he drew close to the city, he found that he felt more nervous than happy.  
As they rode through the main gateway, it was growing dark.  
It was a disorienting experience. Everything was at once familiar but unfamiliar. Nothing had changed much, he thought, looking around, only himself. He’d been through so much, with no time to process any of it, he didn’t even know who he was anymore; he wondered what his mater would make of him.  
He knew where things had really fallen apart, of course - or at least, he corrected himself with a sigh, what had started his unravelling.  
He had been sent to the Delos Islands as an idealistic young hoplite; but things had immediately fallen apart. No training could have prepared him for the chaos of the shipwreck which had killed so many of his friends; nor for having to take charge of those who remained while struggling with the guilt that he had survived when others more deserving hadn’t. He’d needed comfort, and Kyra had offered it willingly. He’d allowed her to soothe him, bolstering him with her strength. He had been inexperienced with women, and had believed what he felt towards her was love, though now he thought it was, at best, gratitude. He had wanted to be in love with her, and he was too young to see that wanting a feeling and really feeling it were two vastly different things.  
They had been struggling even before she’d sent for the Misthios. The rebellion was going nowhere, partly because of the shipwreck, partly because deep down, he thought Kyra didn’t really have the right kind of mind to break the stalemate. She wasn’t ruthless enough, too cautious. The frustration they both felt, their different ideas clashing, had caused friction between them.  
But then He’d arrived. It was almost as if Thaletas’ mind sighed the name longingly: Alexios.  
Thaletas had tried to tutor himself over the years not to think about him, but he had never really succeeded. The memory of that awful night at the Symposium, and the next morning watching the Adrestia leaving the port on Mykonos while Kyra sneered at him, recurred often to prick at him.  
He’d tried to bury himself in the relationship with Kyra, to pretend that everything was as it had always been; but although she had told him she didn’t mind his having indulged himself with Alexios, he caught her sometimes looking at him so intensely he knew she could tell that something had changed in him.  
Less than a year after the assassination of Podarkes, Thaletas had been transferred to Naxos. A leader called Phoenix had left the island, and been replaced by a man with no backbone and plenty of debts. The Athenians had seen a chance and made their move.  
In a way, he had been glad to be posted, because Kyra had absolutely refused to go with him. He’d known since he’d spent that profound day with Alexios that the only thing holding them together was her almost fanatical belief in the relationship – and he, well… He wasn’t proud to admit it to himself, but he had lacked the guts to tell her the truth: that he was devastatingly, irrevocably in love with Alexios; but then, he thought dryly, he hadn’t even had the guts to admit that truth to himself for a long time.  
Instead, he’d gritted his teeth and let her throw accusations around: She said he only cared for his own glory, and selfishly expected her to give up everything she had worked for, just to cater to his needs. He’d told her a part truth - that he didn’t get to choose his fate - he only did what was good for Sparta. She couldn’t understand, or more likely didn’t want to; and by then, he didn’t care what she thought anyway.  
Everything had been a bit of a blur for a while after that: A year on Naxos, then he was sent to Boeotia for one summer, followed by a winter in Messenia, which was where he was when the peace was declared. His polemarch had offered to send him back to Sparta, but he’d asked if there was anything else he could do; they didn’t need to be asked twice: they sent him back to Naxos, where he’d stayed.  
There had always been rumours about Alexios in circulation; that was what had inspired Kyra to send for him in the first place; but it seemed once he was on Naxos, everyone was talking about the Eagle Bearer.  
Thaletas had identified Alexios as a Spartan, but the first stunning revelation had been that he wasn’t just any Spartan, but royalty - the grandson of the hero king Leonidas. Thaletas had luckily overheard this through a wall, so that no one had seen him gape. Later, it was added that he was the boy who had killed an elder, and been thrown from Mount Taygetos in punishment. Everyone in Sparta knew about that, but of course, it had been assumed he was dead. In Boeotia, Thaletas had found that Alexios was the hot topic. Many of the men there had met him when he’d fought beside General Stentor in the battle to take that region the year before. There had also been talk of a win at the Olympics, and some connection was suggested with King Pausanias and his assassination.  
Thaletas pursed his lips. Everyone in the Greek world had heard that one of the Kings had been killed like a dog on the road, after being deposed for conspiracy against Sparta. Thaletas had even entertained the idea that it was Alexios who had killed him; but Pausanias was Alexios’ cousin, so if it was true...  
Whatever the truth of the matter, whatever he had or hadn’t done, it was commonly known that Alexios had earnt his Spartan citizenship back, and was living back in the city.  
The soldier who had told Thaletas this last piece of information had been amazed when he had coloured violently, and had asked with interest, ‘Do you know him?’  
Thaletas was appalled at his own reaction, but had said as casually as he could, ‘Yes – a little. He was involved with the campaign on the Silver Islands.’  
The soldier had given him a curious look. ‘What’s he like?’  
Thaletas’ memory had not been helpful, showing him the misthios, leant back against a ruined column on Delos, as naked as the day he was born, his skin gleaming golden in the late afternoon light, his face turned up to the sun.  
He’d swallowed heavily, but managed to say, ‘A brilliant fighter; the kind of man you don’t want to face on the battlefield.’  
‘Some of the men are saying he’s a demigod,’ he’d said then, and Thaletas had laughed. He could hardly explain that he knew better than most that Alexios was just a man – an exceptionally attractive one perhaps, a brilliant fighter and an unforgettable lover certainly, but still flesh and blood.  
The unit had reached the Spartan town centre, and as was traditional, from there they dispersed, all of them silently nodding to each other, knowing they would meet again the following evening at the mess. For this one night, on their return home, they were permitted to eat and sleep at the home of their families.  
He turned his horse into the side street which led to his mater’s house. He hadn’t consciously thought about it, but he chose the way that took him past the house of Leonidas.  
Thaletas had kept the secret that this so-called demigod had once declared his love for him. All the stories of Alexios’ exploits had increased a deeply private sense of privilege: That a man like that, who could do such things in the world, loved him – or had, once. He’d carried the memory in his heart, a germ of warm golden sunlight and happiness, held all the closer as Thaletas had endured bleak camp after bleak camp, crumbling fort after crumbling fort…  
He shook his head at his own sentimentality, and corrected this romantic thought. The memory gave him comfort, but only when it wasn’t prickling at his feelings. If Alexios’ face the last time they’d met, at the symposium on Mykonos, was anything to go by, Thaletas had forfeited any warm feelings Alexios might have had for him – and rightly so.  
He had reached the house of Leonidas, which was set back from the thoroughfare with a training yard before it. The door was ajar, and he could hear voices within – women, arguing – and then over them, the voice that he suddenly realised he had been straining and hoping to hear – the voice that had burnt in his veins for years – telling the women to calm down.  
He was almost breathless with the tumult of emotions triggered by that voice, even though he had sought it out, expected it; the memories tumbled back into his mind with the force of years of repression – suddenly it was as though their time together had been only days before...  
He remembered those ruins on Delos, the golden sky, the slow opening up of their hearts and minds to each other, in a way that he had never experienced before, nor since. It had been the most powerfully enchanting feeling, but also terrifying. Then the closeness of skin on skin, the powerful release that Alexios had elicited from him – he almost groaned aloud. He had thought of nothing else at night since. Ten years expecting to die; expecting never to see Alexios again, though wanting to, of course, but equally fearing it. Just as he felt now, though heightened a hundredfold, now that he was so very close...  
He became aware that his horse had come to stand in the street, and he quickly turned its head and carried on towards his mater’s house.

The following morning, Thaletas had thought he would go and confront Alexios: He was a Spartan General, he commanded armies. Surely, he wasn’t too afraid to face one man, and a mercenary at that! Yet for all this pep talk to himself, he didn’t.  
He felt like a coward, torn by indecision. Love warred with fear; he didn’t know how he could face Alexios, for he wasn’t in the slightest bit sure that the mercenary wouldn’t murder him – and get paid for it in Athens, no doubt.  
So he allowed the days to slip by without carrying out his resolution. The first weeks of winter passed; the snows came. His leg began to heal, but the limp would always remain. He took up a training role at the gymnasium. His mother began talking about his marriage, and he deliberately began staying later than usual at the mess to avoid her.  
It was late one night. There were no clouds, and the air was all the colder for that reason. He had drunk a cup too many of wine, despite the moderation that was expected of all Spartans; and this despite the fact he was expected to go hunting in the morning. He groaned at the thought, and decided he should take a walk to clear his head.  
He meandered through the streets in the dark, not bothering to light a torch – he drunkenly congratulated himself on his Spartan-ness; the old laws forbid the men from carrying torches home from the mess, as it ruined their night vision, but no one really followed that anymore.  
He walked up the stairs until he found himself at the Temple of Athena Chalkioikos on the akropolis. He liked to come here sometimes, just to stand, looking out to the south, out over the city, towards the sea. The mountains were a symphony of rich blues and velvety blacks, and moonlight was gleaming off the distant mountains covered in snow. He breathed deeply, trying to clear his head.  
The Temple was empty of worshippers at this time of night, and the few guards who he knew were installed at the doorway of the temple building beyond didn’t leave their post. He wondered briefly what they would have made of his standing here like this in the cold, but dismissed the thought.  
He had been standing there for some time when he had a creeping sensation up the back of his neck that he wasn’t alone. He hadn’t heard anyone approach. He tensed.  
‘General Thaletas.’  
Thaletas congratulated himself that he didn’t flinch, at least, though the knowledge that Alexios was so close… He couldn’t bring himself to turn, and so said out into the night, ‘Alexios.’ The name left him like a great exhalation. He had the strangest feeling he had metaphorically been holding his breath since he had seen the misthios last. How he had fought to keep it all bottled up, and now, in that one utterance of his name, everything was released.  
‘It’s been a long time,’ Alexios said quietly from where he stood. ‘Years full of war.’  
Thaletas turned then, but for a moment, he thought he had been talking to himself. It was only as his eyes adjusted to the darkness in the deeper shadows of the portico that he could make out the tall figure leaning against the wall. He saw that Alexios was wearing a dark tunic, and despite the cold, his arms were uncovered and crossed before him. The moonlight caught against the shining metal of the bow he wore at his back.  
Thaletas said with an attempt at humour, ‘I’ve heard. Some of the stories are beyond believing. Someone suggested to me that you’re a demi-god.’ He felt heady, and he didn’t think it was the wine. He’d forgotten the sheer visceral presence of the misthios, the way he sent all of Thaletas’ thoughts reeling away into mush.  
Alexios stepped forward into the moonlight then, and Thaletas saw that he was grinning. The smile made Thaletas’ heart lurch. ‘You said it yourself – I fight like Achilles reborn.’  
‘Did I? I don’t remember that.’  
‘Well – maybe it was someone else.’ He half turned away from Thaletas to look away towards Mount Taygetos, visible away to their right, hiding his face.  
‘How did you know I was here?’ Thaletas asked after a moment of silence.  
‘I saw you in the agora last week.’ His voice sounded vague, and for a moment Thaletas thought he wasn’t going to say anymore, but then he continued, half to himself, ‘I only came back to Sparta two weeks ago. I haven’t slept much since. There’s something about this place…’ He trailed off. Then his voice took on its usual tone as he said, ‘I was tending Phobos at the stable near Mater’s when I saw you walking here.’  
Thaletas said accusingly, ‘You followed me!’  
Alexios looked back at him then, the grin back in place – maybe it had always been there. ‘You were weaving a little. I wanted to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.’  
Thaletas looked sheepish. ‘Why didn’t you speak to me last week?’  
Alexios considered this. ‘Why didn’t you seek me out? You must have known I was here.’ He shrugged. ‘We both know the answer to that, I think.’ He stepped towards the balustrade, and leant back against it. His back was to the moon, hiding the details of his face, but even at rest, Thaletas noted the readiness to spring which never left the misthios. He reflected abstractly that he had only seen Alexios relaxed once, completely spent – and with a gulp, he pushed that memory aside.  
‘I suppose you have no reason to give me your time...’ Thaletas said, noticing a slight shake in his own voice.  
Alexios replied softly, even sadly, Thaletas noticed with surprise, ‘No, you’re wrong. I have a reason. I told you how I felt about you on Mykonos. Did you think I lied?’ There was the slightest hint of an edge as he added, ‘I’ll admit I concluded years ago that that was what you had done.’  
Thaletas flushed. ‘You thought I lied to you?’  
‘What else could I think?’ he asked, not shying away from the truth. ‘You declared that you loved me, had your way with me, then chose to stay with Kyra.’  
Thaletas flushed, visible even in the moonlight. ‘I didn’t lie, exactly; but what future did we have? You were determined to sail away, and I have no say over where I’m posted. I was swept away by you on Delos, I forgot myself and promised from the heart, without thinking...’  
Alexios interrupted softly, ‘Then I wish you had found it in yourself to tell me so at the time…’ He trailed off, and moved much closer to Thaletas, placing a hand over his where it was resting on the balustrade.  
The contact brought back memories. Thaletas remembered taking that same hand as Alexios pulled him up out of the dust after they had sparred, and he had been so easily beaten. The scarred and calloused hand sent a shudder of lust through him. He said very quietly, ‘I wish I had found it in myself to go with you – wherever in the world you went.’  
Alexios laughed then. ‘You would have hated yourself. A deserter from Sparta, with no honour - can you imagine? You would have resented me, too, for tempting you to it.’  
‘Even so. I wished to see you again, and at the same time I feared it.’  
‘That’s a feeling I can relate to,’ Alexios said gently, looking at Thaletas, his eyes devouring the beautiful lines of his face in the moonlight. It had been improved by the maturity that had been gained in the last ten years. Their eyes met, and he knew that they could just as easily have been on Delos the day before. He could scarcely believe that their feelings had endured the time, everything that had happened, but there could be no doubting it – at least, up until now. He sighed.  
Alexios had spent the days since he had spotted Thaletas in the agora questioning his own feelings. He had asked himself if there was any hope for them, even if he was optimistic and assumed that Thaletas would be at all interested. He knew without any doubt that he didn’t want to spend a night with him once in a while – not when it would only mean more months or years of torment - but he struggled to see how it could work. He would always have to travel; and there were other stumbling blocks.  
Alexios had determined that he would just have to face him like a man and determine if Thaletas still felt anything for him. If he did, then Alexios would tell him everything, and see what happened. One way or another, their being here together seemed like a second chance from Aphrodite, and Alexios was determined to take it.  
No retreat, he’d reminded himself grimly as he followed him earlier that night. With his shield or on it.  
Alexios took Thaletas’ hand in his, and held it. Very gently, he said, ‘The truth is…’ He paused swallowing nervously. ‘The truth is, I did see you again.’  
Thaletas looked at him in surprise. ‘What! When?’ He felt a sudden chill run down his spine. ‘Were you… sent to kill me?’  
Alexios shook his head slowly. ‘No, not you. It was in Boeotia, five years ago…’

Alexios had been sent to assassinate a Spartan leader who had pissed off a lot of people in Orchomenos. They’d offered a bounty he couldn’t pass up. He’d climbed the wall of the Fort of Gla, stalked along the ramparts without being seen; slid down a ladder and then slipped into a building to dodge a brute passing on patrol. It was only once he was in the room that he realised there were two men sleeping there, and by the light of a lamp, he’d felt the frisson of shock as he’d recognised Thaletas. He’d frozen, at once irrationally wishing he would wake, but knowing that if he did, things would get messy.  
It had been six years since Mykonos at the time, and Alexios had convinced himself he no longer felt anything for Thaletas; but as he had looked down on the sweetly sleeping face, the lines as perfect and lovely as ever, he knew he had been lying to himself all along.  
Thaletas had stirred in his sleep, breaking the moment. Alexios had inhaled sharply, and swiftly gone out the way he’d come, suddenly feeling like his world was coming undone.

Thaletas almost gasped. ‘It was you who killed Polyxenus?’  
Alexios didn’t reply; he didn’t need to.  
For a long moment, there was only silence between them. Then he heard Thaletas breath out heavily. ‘He was a good man.’  
Alexios said gently, ‘Not if you ask the people of Orchomenos, he wasn’t.’  
Thaletas took his hand from Alexios’ and paced back and forwards a few times. At last he asked in a very quiet voice, ‘You’re a Spartan citizen. Have you no loyalty?’  
It was a sad question, Alexios thought. He sighed. He could do nothing to ease this moment for Thaletas. ‘I no longer kill Spartan citizens, but the past cannot be changed.’  
Thaletas sighed. He’d always known the misthios had no real allegiance, like any mercenary; it had made sense too, when that rumour had reached him that Alexios was the child thrown from the mountain. Yet, to know that he had killed a man that Thaletas had personally known and liked, while he was sleeping in the next building over – that was harder to accept.  
Before he could say anything about it though, Alexios continued, ‘You should also know I nearly killed your brother. In Arkadia.’  
Thaletas asked in a strained voice, ‘Nearly?’  
‘Yes. He looks like you – it was quite a shock. I asked him, and he told me you were brothers.’  
Thaletas was confounded. He couldn’t decide if he was angry or simply amazed. ‘You spared him… because of me?’  
Alexios was quiet for a long moment. At last he reluctantly said, ‘Yes. That’s why I’m back here, and why I’m not staying for long – only until spring. Then I have to go. I’ve been moving constantly since last winter. Every mercenary in Greece is looking for me. Once the pass is open again...’ he shrugged.  
His failure to fulfill the contract had been taken just as badly as he’d expected by Demosthenes. Besides the bounty, he had also barred Alexios from entering Athens.  
‘What do you mean?’ Thaletas asked, a frown in his voice. He was out of his depth, knowing little about how the world of the misthios functioned. He imagined the failure to complete a contract would just mean the loss of the fee.  
Patiently, Alexios explained. ‘I failed to fulfill a contract, which came directly from someone very high up in the Athenian command; as a result, Arkadia has signed a new treaty with Sparta instead of Athens.’ He laughed without mirth. ‘The commander in question didn’t take it well. There’s a bounty on my head big enough to bankrupt a small city.’  
They were quiet for a long moment as Thaletas thought this over, before he asked, ‘Why are you telling me all this? About Isadas and Polyxenus?’  
Alexios hesitated before answering. ‘I guess I thought that if we were going to talk, we may as well talk truth. It’s easy to cast people from our past into forms that they never truly had.’ His voice dropped as he said, ‘I want you to know who I am, not who you wish me to be.’ His voice gained strength as he said, ‘Even if that means that you no longer wish to know me at all.’  
This confession knocked the breath out of Thaletas. He rubbed his face with both hands. ‘Alexios.’  
Alexios stood then. His voice was tense. ‘You wish me to leave?’  
‘No,’ Thaletas said irritably, looking up at him. He felt remarkably sober now. ‘You can’t just lay that on me and then leave. I want to know what you want!’  
Alexios raised one brow. ‘What I want? I just told you.’  
‘That you want to know me? What does that even mean?’ For some reason he had begun to feel a little angry.  
Alexios’ grin had appeared again. ‘Why are you grinning?’ Thaletas demanded, which only made the grin wider.  
‘Because, you fool, I’m declaring that I want to make it work with you, and you’re angry with me for saying so!’  
‘That’s your way of declaring it? By telling me that you killed one of my friends and almost killed my brother?’ He shook his head, though he found that he was absurdly smiling.  
Alexios stepped forward and took his hands again. ‘I told you these things because if I didn’t, you would one day find out, and feel deceived. You can have all the time in the world to decide if you can forgive me – for my lack of allegiance, for my past transgressions; but if you want me, then it will only be on the most honest of terms.’ He leant forward, and brushed Thaletas’ lips with his. In a hoarse whisper, he said, ‘If you want to find me, you know where I live.’  
He let go of Thaletas’ hands, and disappeared back into the night.


	4. Leaving Sparta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They had talked for a long time about what Thaletas wanted to do. At first, he’d laughed, when Alexios asked. The idea was a totally foreign concept to Thaletas, who had been raised only to think about what was good for Sparta and what Sparta wanted from him, rather than what was good for him, and what he wanted as an individual.

Late winter, 417 BCE 

It took Thaletas weeks to get together the courage to face his mother, and when the moment came, he came close to putting it off once more.  
His mother’s name was Isadora. She was still relatively young, only in her mid-forties, and she was a pretty, active woman. She was renowned in Sparta for her dancing, which she competed in at the various religious games and regularly won. Her dark hair was touched with silver, but her face was only lined in the way of smile lines. She had always been a joyful soul.  
Thaletas, her only son, was her pride and joy, and she had made it clear to him that she had looked forward to his return so that she could see him married, settled, and, she implied, the advent of her grandchildren, who would grow up to be strong, honourable Spartan men, just like her son.  
He approached her house thinking wryly that his return had been marred by two things; first, that he had wounded himself, and this had caused her worry; and second, that he refused to talk about selecting a wife, despite her best attempts to corner him on the subject.  
He reached her house, and with a hammering heart, he pushed the door open to let himself in, and called out to Isadora.  
She was in the second room, and came to where he was through a door. She smiled warmly. ‘My son. It is still such a delight to see you. It’s like I forget that you have returned, and it feels like a pleasant surprise each time you come to visit me. Would you like a drink?’  
He rubbed his hands together nervously, and cleared his throat. ‘No, I’m fine. I’ve come to tell you some news, and to seek your blessing.’  
‘Oh?’ She said, tipping her head like an inquisitive bird - and like a bird, he thought, she was looking at him with beady, watchful eyes.  
‘I’m going away.’  
She frowned. ‘The King is sending you back to the front?’  
‘No,’ he said, shifting from one foot to the other. ‘No, I am not being sent anywhere. I’m going to get work. As a mercenary.’  
Her eyebrows shot up. ‘But you have the position at the gymnasium...’ She trailed off, looking at him with a harder look on her face. ‘What has caused you to make this decision?’  
He swallowed heavily. He knew where she was going with her thinking, and he carefully steered her away from the truth. He'd always been guided by her, and if she knew why he had made this decision, he would be in the unpleasant position of going against her wishes. He felt very uncertain of himself. ‘Since I’ve been back in Sparta, I’ve come to realise that I'm not content to retire from an active life, though the King will never agree to return me to active service, not with my limp. I have come to think that taking mercenary work is the best way for me to do that.’ He watched her face closely as he spoke, and was relieved when her expression softened.  
‘I suppose this is why you have been putting off marriage?’  
He flushed, but nodded. It was kind of the truth, he thought guiltily.  
She sighed. ‘There’s no shame in selling your sword, provided you keep your honour. I just wish you would stay; but of course, you will be able to return more often.’ She stepped towards him, and rested her forehead against his. ‘Of course you have my blessing. When do you think of leaving?’  
‘Soon. A week or two at most.’  
She stepped back from him, and gave him a sad smile. ‘Then it will be as the gods will it.’

The sun had some warmth in it at last, Thaletas thought as he walked away from his mother’s house, out into the forest. The sun was on his face, a smile playing on his lips. The conversation with his mother was another step forward – a long series of steps that would lead him to a new life, a life with Alexios.  
They had spent a lot of time together over the winter. They’d found a cave and claimed it as their own, making it cosy with a fire roaring inside and layers of animal skins thrown on the sandy floor. In that cave, they had loved each other through many long, cold dark nights, with the sound of howling wolves in the distance, the patter of rain outside, and sometimes the distant sounds of the city, if the wind was from the right direction. They’d talked sometimes, about who they were, and where they were going, but mostly they were just as comfortable in silence.  
They had talked for a long time about what Thaletas wanted to do. At first, he’d laughed, when Alexios asked. The idea was a totally foreign concept to Thaletas, who had been raised only to think about what was good for Sparta and what Sparta wanted from him, rather than what was good for him, and what he wanted as an individual.  
Alexios had grinned. ‘Then you want to stay here and have healthy sons?’  
Thaletas had laughed. ‘Gods no,’ he said. ‘Not yet, anyway.’  
‘Then what?’ The question had remained hanging, and for a few days thereafter, Thaletas had thought of little else. It wasn’t until late one night, listening to Alexios snore, that he had suddenly realised that what he really wanted was to see the world. Not as a Spartan general, not as one sees the world as an invader planning manoeuvres, but as a civilian, as a man. He wanted to drink all the wine he wanted, to climb all the mountains, sail the seas, hunt the wild beasts, watch the sunrise and the sunset, or sleep through both. He wanted to be free.  
By the gods, what he really wanted was to live.  
He’d looked down at Alexios, face half buried in bear fur, and he knew that’s why he’d fallen in love with this man. He was alive in a way Thaletas had never been. If they had never met, he mused, then he would never have reached this moment.  
He’d wanted to shake Alexios awake and share this revelation, but he’d stopped himself. For the span of the night, he'd allowed himself to imagine what he might do with all the years he had left to him.  
In the morning, Alexios had listened with a grin on his face. ‘You want to stop being Spartan?’ he’d laughed. ‘Who are you? What have you done with Thaletas?’  
The memory made Thaletas grin to himself. When Alexios was done teasing him though, he’d suggested Thaletas come with him on the Adrestia when he left Sparta. ‘At least to begin with,’ he’d added, trying to keep things light between them. They both knew it was more serious than that, though neither of them really knew what the future might look like, so Thaletas let him treat it that way without argument.

He reached the cave, and found his lover reading over a scrap of papyrus.  
‘What’s that?’ he asked, leaning down to kiss him before crouching beside him.  
‘A message from Barnabas. The Adrestia is at Gytheion, ready to sail as soon as I am.’  
‘As soon as we are, you mean,’ Thaletas said with a shy grin.  
Alexios raised his eyebrows. ‘You told her? How did she take it?’  
He smiled, which said it all, and Alexios broke into a happy grin. ‘Well then - the ship is ready when we are.’ He threw the papyrus down beside himself. ‘You’re sure about this?’  
‘I’m sure,’ he said. ‘Besides, if it all goes wrong, I can always come back.’  
Alexios laughed. ‘And what could possibly go wrong?’

The following week, Thaletas and Alexios both took their leave of their parents.  
Thaletas dealt with the floods of tears from Isadora, though she assured him, unconvincingly, that she was only happy he was decided, and was walking a path that he thought honourable.  
Then Thaletas had ridden to the house of Leonidas, where they had agreed to meet.  
Alexios had found only Myrrine there. Stentor had come back for a few weeks during the winter from Megara, but had left again, sent somewhere else he claimed he couldn't talk about. Kassandra had not stayed beyond the first weeks of winter - avoiding Alexios himself, he thought, not that he minded. She was always so argumentative and surly; she made the moody Stentor seem pleasant by contrast. Nikolaos was away from home, training the young recruits up in the mountains. He was of the opinion that living in the snow with only the one cloak allowed under Sparta law was the best test of a young man’s backbone. As Alexios remembered vividly from his own childhood, it had been more of a test of the fingers and toes than the backbone.  
Myrrine and Alexios walked out into the yard, turning their faces up to the sun in such a similar way it made Thaletas smile.  
Myrrine said, ‘You travel safely, lamb. I’ll be here when you come back.’ Then she noticed Thaletas waiting, and looked at Alexios in enquiry.  
Alexios grinned. ‘Mater - this is Thaletas. We’ll be travelling together.’  
She smiled, though Alexios, at least, noticed that her eyes were slightly narrowed as she put two and two together. ‘Thaletas. I believe I’ve heard your name. You were instrumental in bringing Naxos back to Sparta after that malákas Lyskuro was bought by the Athenians?’  
‘I was,’ he said. ‘We had a hard time of it, but the Naxians rallied. They’re a staunch people.’ Thaletas had been surprised when Alexios had disclosed that his mother had been Phoenix of Naxos, and that he had himself been on that island brief months before Thaletas. They’d entertained themselves with what might have been, had they met again there, within months of events on Mykonos - the possibilities had ranged from the violent to the romantic, but they had concluded that it had probably been better that they hadn’t.  
Myrrine smiled, with a hint of wistfulness. ‘They are. I miss it sometimes.’  
Alexios had mounted Phobos, who was pawing to go. ‘You should go then, Mater. I'm sure a few months away from Sparta wouldn’t hurt after all this time.’  
She smiled and waved a hand in dismissal. ‘Maybe next year. You two travel safely.’  
As they rode away, Thaletas asked, ‘Do you think she knows? About us?’  
Alexios grinned at him. ‘No doubt at all. Come on. The ship’s waiting.’

The port town of Gytheion was quiet, so they heard the crew singing their old favourite, a song of praise for Poseidon, long before they could see the boat itself. The smell of the ocean, the gulls, the singing - Alexios felt his heart swell with happiness at the thought of being on the move again.  
As they stepped aboard, Barnabas greeted Alexios, then cried warmly, ‘Thaletas! It’s been a long time. Welcome aboard.’ Before Thaletas could say anything in reply, Barnabas had turned to the boat at large, and shouted, ‘Everyone! For those of you who weren’t with us on the Delos Islands, this is Thaletas. He’ll be coming with us for as long as he sees fit. Treat him like you do the Commander.’ Barnabas grinned at Thaletas, before he said, ‘Come with me. Before we sail, you should meet our lieutenants.’  
Glancing back, he saw that Alexios was head down in a storage compartment on the bridge, oblivious to what was going on, so Thaletas followed Barnabas.  
The four men who served as lieutenants were talking at the far end of the deck from the bridge. For a moment, Thaletas was genuinely taken aback. There were two Polemarches - one Athenian and one Spartan. He wasn’t sure which shocked him most - that Alexios would welcome an Athenian polemarch was a surprise; but perhaps not as much as the fact that a Spartan polemarch had abandoned his post to sail on the Adrestia. He stared at them both with a slightly open mouth while Barnabas introduced them - he was so shocked, he missed their names; but he gathered himself enough to greet them.  
The third lieutenant was a short, tanned man with his hair cropped very short, dressed in a blue tunic. He was introduced as Boros the Great Deceiver. He had, Barnabas informed him, been the leader of Boeotia at one time, but had joined the Adrestia shortly after the plague in Athens, and had liked it so much, he stayed.  
That left only the fourth man, who had stood back from them a little, and it was only as Barnabas said, ‘This is Pelias,’ that Thaletas got a proper look at him, and he had to stop himself from dropping him mouth open again. The man was gorgeous. Tall, slim, with short dark hair, a full beard, and armour which had clearly been designed to flatter his fine build. ‘Pelias is a misthios, and has been with us for years. His nickname is the Seductive.’  
Pelias rolled his eyes. ‘Not a name I chose for myself,’ he said, in a voice that was as warm as honey. Gods, Thaletas thought, this man would rival Adonis! ‘A pleasure to meet you all,’ Thaletas said. He was aware he'd flushed, and was surprised to discover he was jealous. Had Alexios invited this man aboard like he had invited himself – were they old lovers?  
At that moment, Alexios called out to Thaletas, so he excused himself. He stalked up the ship to where Alexios was still rummaging through storage, and said without preamble, ‘The Seductive? Your lieutenant is a seducer?’  
Alexios looked up with a grin. ‘He is, and a damn good one too - lieutenant, that is, not seducer. Not to mention, he’s rather nicer to look at than the Great Deceiver and friends.’ He straightened up, and looked over to where the lieutenants stood, a faint smile on his lips.  
‘Why is he here?’ Thaletas asked, sounding like a petulant child.  
It was only then that Alexios noticed the look on Thaletas’ face. He grinned. ‘You’re not jealous, are you?’ Thaletas set his jaw, and Alexios laughed. ‘You have nothing to worry about. From what I hear, he’s a seducer of women; at least, he’s never shown the least interest in me.’ He grinned again, and with a swift duck of his head, he kissed Thaletas warmly, allowing his lips to linger. ‘You’re the only seducer I’m the least interested in.’  
Thaletas coloured slightly, but his jealousy seeped away. ‘You did all the seducing.’  
Alexios laughed, and turned back to the trunk. ‘Did I? Now who sprinkled the flowers on Delos?’  
Thaletas smiled then, and sat down on the bench that ran along the back of the bridge. ‘What are you doing, anyway?’  
‘I’m seeing what armour might fit you. I know you brought armour,’ he said, forestalling an objection which he saw on Thaletas’ face, ‘but when we’re in places under Athenian control, you will want something less conspicuous.’ He held up a gleaming item: A chest piece of silver scale armour, with lion fur detailing. ‘How about this?’  
It was so ostentatious, for a moment Thaletas just stared, then he laughed. ‘You call that inconspicuous!’  
Alexios looked at it, then grinned. ‘Oh - That can be fixed, I promise. Just see if it fits.’  
He tried it on, and as Alexios had guessed, despite his smaller stature, it fit well enough.  
‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘It’s yours. You shouldn't need it on Chios though. It's been quiet there since the peace.’  
‘Chios? That’s where we’re going?’  
He nodded. ‘I have some business with my female associates there.’  
Thaletas was confused. ‘Female associates?’  
Alexios closed the lid of the storage compartment and then glanced around the bridge, saying distractedly, ‘The Daughters of Artemis. I’m sure I told you about them?’ Before Thaletas could reply though, he called out, ‘Barnabas, are we ready to go?’  
‘Give the word, Commander.’  
‘Take the Captains position for a while then, Barnabas, and away we go.’  
With a great heave, the rowers moved the Adrestia away from the dock, and Alexios sat beside Thaletas. ‘Now - What were we saying?’  
‘The Daughters. You called them your associates?’  
‘Ah yes. Well, actually, the truth is, I’m their leader.’ He saw the disbelief on Thaletas’ face and laughed. ‘I know, it makes no sense! Ask the gods what they were thinking, they alone know. It was a very strange autumn that year.’  
As the ship moved away from land and picked up speed, heading south first, before they would turn east then north, Alexios settled in to tell him the story - the beasts he had hunted; the interludes with Daphne, the Daughter who had set him on the trails of the animals; and finally, the horrendous moment he had realised he was going to have to kill her.  
By the time he’d finished, the sun was sinking, the stars shining brightly above, and the ship was moving away from the mainland.  
Barnabas, who had been listening from his post at the bridge, wiped a tear from his eye. ‘The tragedy of Daphne! Fated to send you hunting, knowing that if you were the person she thought you to be, then she was doomed to die.’  
Thaletas said, ‘Sometimes the gods really are inexplicable.’  
Alexios smiled a little sadly. ‘They always are, if you ask me. At first, I thought the Daughters would reject me outright, but they never have. Though you’ll see, they’re not exactly friendly.’  
He stood, stretching, before going to take his usual place at the centre of the bridge. Barnabas respectfully moved aside to the right. He liked to say that he was Alexios’ "right hand man". Alexios looked back and said to Thaletas, ‘You can take Herodotus’ spot, if you like?’  
He only half heard what Alexios had said because of the wind. ‘The what?’  
Alexios said more loudly, ‘I mean, you can stand to my left.’  
Thaletas joined him, moving unsteadily, taking up the place indicated. Seeing him grip the railing tightly, Alexios grinned. ‘You’ll get used to it after a time.’  
He set his jaw. ‘It's only that this is smaller than most of the ships I’ve been on before.’  
Alexios glanced at Barnabas, and they grinned knowingly at one another. It was only a matter of time before Thaletas’ lunch was over the side, but trust a Spartan to be too proud to admit it.


	5. The... Cargo.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘There’s only room below decks for the oarsmen and the... cargo.’

It was just on dawn when they docked at Hydrea. The weather had been clear the whole way from Gytheion, the sky bright with stars and a half moon. They had passed few ships so early in the spring; that would all change soon enough.  
Thaletas’ sea sickness had passed, and a few hours before dawn, he’d fallen asleep wrapped in bear skins on the bridge.  
That had been a conversation, Alexios thought with a grin, glancing back at his sleeping lover, his handsome face outlined by the golden light of the fire.  
Thaletas had been dumbfounded. ‘I thought there must be a space below for sleeping, since you have no shelter on deck.’  
Alexios shook his head. ‘There’s only room for the oarsmen and the... cargo.’  
He’d tilted his head a little. ‘Cargo?’  
Alexios had looked a little embarrassed, unusual in him. ‘It’s mostly animal skins, iron ore, some other expensive rocks...’ he’d muttered, ‘and quite a few pieces of armour and weaponry.’  
Thaletas has started to smile. ‘How much armour and weaponry are we talking about?’  
Alexios shook his head, as though it was nothing.  
Barnabas, who had been listening to the conversation, interjected with, ‘A lot! It’s like Hephaistos workshop exploded in there!’  
Thaletas frowned. ‘Do you use the armour and weapons? I only ever see you wear what – three different sets?’  
Alexios was still frowning at Barnabas, but said, ‘Just because I don’t use them, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t keep them. I guess I’m... something of a collector.’  
‘Any chance I could persuade you sell some of it at least, since you don’t use it?’  
Alexios shook his head. ‘No. If you knew what you were asking…. I mean, you wouldn’t want me to sell the armour of Achilles, for example?’  
Incredulously, Thaletas asked, ‘You have the armour of Achilles?’  
‘You see? I couldn’t sell it. You’ll just have to sleep on the deck like everyone else.’  
‘Except you,’ he grumbled as he wrapped himself in the fur, too tired to continue arguing, ‘who never sleeps.’  
Alexios chuckled. ‘You’re probably the only person who knows that that’s not true; but when it comes to sleeping on the Adrestia...’ he shook his head.

As they docked at the small settlement on Hydrea, Alexios stretched his arms above his head, then turned to find Thaletas awake, watching him admiringly. He smiled lazily. ‘There are benefits to sleeping up here after all.’ He sat up, looking at the island they’d arrived at. ‘Why are we stopping here?’  
‘Well, I’ve been thinking you need some training, and this place is perfect.’  
He frowned. ‘What do you mean, I need training? I’m a Spartan!’  
Alexios sat beside him as the oarsmen clambered up from below decks and gratefully breathed deeply of the fresh air, before laying out their bedding on deck or under the trees a short distance from the ship. He said, ‘And that’s why you need training. A Spartan is a battlefield warrior, taught to attack directly, openly, in the phalanx; but a mercenary is often alone, and relies on stealth and speed above everything else.’ He rubbed his chin with one hand, the stubble bristling. ‘At the very least, you’ll need to learn to climb.’  
‘I can climb,’ he said defensively.  
Alexios raised his eyebrows and gave Thaletas the same doubtful grin that Thaletas remembered vividly from the day he'd challenged Alexios to spar on Delos – and been thoroughly beaten.  
‘We’ll see,’ Alexios said, then paused and considered. ‘And we need to work on your archery.’  
He half laughed. ‘You don’t seem to think much of my skills!’  
‘I’m only saying you’ll need more skills than you already have, not that you don’t have any. You’re a brilliant man in a battle, but…’ he paused and took Thaletas’ hand. ‘I want you with me until old age takes us, and for that, you need to become a silent killer, who can pass in and out of secure areas unseen; or, better yet, remove targets from well outside restricted areas. You’ll see I’m right, the first time you have four or five bounty hunters show up when you’re already in a melee with half a dozen Athenians, with a few civilians thrown in. Better that you go unnoticed.’  
He nodded reluctantly. Though he didn’t like to admit it, he knew that Alexios knew what he was talking about.  
‘I want you to show me the cargo,’ he said suddenly.  
That same embarrassed look returned to Alexios' face. ‘It’s a mess down there.’  
Thaletas ignored this, and stood, going over to the hatch. Alexios followed him reluctantly down the short ladder. They were assailed by the smell of the below-deck - armpits and damp, and of men enclosed in a small space who were constantly exerting themselves. Alexios looked at Thaletas and said, ‘Would you want to sleep down here anyway?’  
Thaletas had wrinkled his nose. ‘Gods, it stinks, doesn’t it?’  
Alexios gestured towards the area which was immediately beneath the bridge. It was full of crates, and even in the light of the few lamps that lit the area, Thaletas could see the gleam of gold and silver. With wide eyes, he said, ‘There must be a small fortune here!’  
‘Or a large one,’ Alexios mumbled under his breath.  
‘The armour of Achilles?’ Thaletas asked.  
Alexios sighed, and began moving crates, each neatly labelled. Thaletas realised that this was the first time he was truly shocked by anything that Alexios did. He had always thought of him as chaotic, quicksilver; he’d never imagined this side of him.  
At last, Alexios pulled out the crate he wanted. ‘Here,’ he said, dumping it unceremoniously at Thaletas’ feet.  
Thaletas leant over, and began taking out the various pieces. ‘Have you ever worn this?’  
‘A few times,’ Alexios said in an offhand way.  
Thaletas was looking down at the breast plate in his hands, slowly shaking his head. ‘This is amazing! To think this is the very armour worn by the greatest Greek hero of all time!’  
Alexios smiled at his enthusiasm, which was endearing. ‘You’re welcome to wear it, if you like.’  
Thaletas looked at him with shining eyes. ‘Really?’  
‘When your training is done, that is. We don’t want you doing a Patroclus; I certainly don't want to be an Achilles, anyway.’  
Thaletas smiled warmly and kissed him, before putting the breast plate back in the crate. ‘Let’s go back up,’ he said, ‘The smell in here is awful.’  
Alexios chuckled, and as they emerged onto the deck, he asked, ‘So I can keep my cargo where it is?’  
Thaletas sighed. ‘Yes. You’re right, I wouldn’t sleep in there. I don’t know anyone who could.’  


They remained on Hydrea for many days; and all day, every day, they trained hard.  
Although Thaletas had been confident in the beginning, he soon discovered that climbing was much harder than he had ever imagined it would be. Alexios expected him to climb into and out of places he would have thought totally crazy. While Alexios was amazing, and could find footholds where there were none as far as Thaletas could see, the training began to pay off, and he found himself able to climb buildings and walls at least, which he’d have thought impossible before. His limp made stealth tricky too; but that too became easier as the days passed.  
Early one evening, at the time when they normally ended their training, Alexios said, ‘I think it’s time you show me what you’ve learnt.’  
Thaletas groaned inwardly. His muscles ached from all of the crouching and creeping around, and his arms and knees were scabbed over from being scuffed against stone, but a Spartan never gives up, or certainly doesn’t let their trainer know they want to. He said in a firm voice, ‘What would you have me do?’  
Alexios grinned at him. ‘When the moon rises, come find me. I don’t want to know you’re coming.’

Thaletas watched him walking away from the training ground, then sat down to wait for moonrise, glad to have a short while to rest.  
Once Selene had peeped over the horizon, he set out in the general direction that he had seen Alexios go. He followed his footprints where he found them leaving the town, heading in a northerly direction. He kept under the cover of the trees and shrubs where he could, making his way towards a low mountain at the far end of the island. About halfway up the slope was a cave. Thaletas saw the light coming from its mouth long before he approached it.  
There was no cover around the entrance, and so, after some consideration, he decided to approach it from one side. He had to be careful now, for the surface was loose, and he didn’t want to send any rocks skittering away, and to hear the dreaded words, ‘You’ve given yourself away, Spartan!’  
As he drew near the entrance of the cave, Alexios was humming to himself inside - the sweet tune about finding the warmth of home.  
Thaletas swiftly crossed the rocky entrance, and slipped his arms around Alexios' waist, kissing the tender place where his neck met his shoulder.  
‘Very good,’ Alexios said, his voice loaded with warmth. He turned and without any other preamble, he kissed Thaletas urgently, pressing their bodies together. After a moment, with a catch in his voice, he said, ‘You’re a fast learner.’  
Thaletas was flushed, but then he noticed the interior of the cave. He had been too intent on being silent to notice before. Alexios must have spent the previous night preparing for this moment. The sandy floor was covered in skins, a bright fire burnt, and it was cosy and warm.  
‘Are those... flowers?’ Thaletas asked, noticing a sprinkling of pink red and white across the floor and bedding.  
Alexios grinned down at him, his voice husky. ‘An old Spartan trick,’ he said as, with a gentle hand, he took Thaletas’ chin and turned his face up to his. He kissed him with all the love that he could feel bursting in his chest.

Late that night, laying wrapped in one another’s arms, Thaletas said, ‘Sparring with you again in the last weeks has brought my memories of Delos back.’  
Alexios gave a half smile, his head propped up on one elbow as he ran a hand along the perfectly shaped muscles of Thaletas’ chest. ‘You’ve improved since then,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Your guard is much better.’  
‘I still remember the moment I knew you were going to win. I’d never been bested like that before, and I didn’t even care. I wanted to feel your power over me.’  
Alexios smiled softly. ‘You told me not to hold back, so I didn’t.  
‘I practiced a lot after that, though, just in case I met you again one day.’  
Alexios was watching his own hand running over Thaletas' skin. ‘On the battlefield?’  
Thaletas nodded, and said quietly, ‘I’m only glad it never happened. That day we fought the Athenians – the first time I saw you; you were like a fire ball on the battle field. I'd heard stories about you before that, but I never believed them until that moment. After you left Delos, the truth is, I was afraid. I thought you had become my enemy. I knew that if you wanted to kill me, you would.’  
Alexios’ expression was grim. ‘After Delos, I was....’ He paused for a long moment before he said, ‘Perhaps it’s best not to talk about it.’  
Thaletas chided him gently. ‘We promised to always speak the truth to one another. I know you fought for Athens many times; I know you’ve killed Spartans. I’ve always known some part of that - you hear about battles, and their champions, wherever you’re posted, and the men do like to talk about you. Your record is a little more - interesting than some.’  
Alexios sighed. ‘I haven’t told you how badly I reacted to what happened between us.’  
Thaletas looked up into his face intently. ‘Badly how?’  
He sighed again, resting his forehead on Thaletas shoulder, before kissing the smooth skin there. Then he said, ‘To begin with, I was violently angry. I took it out on everyone. I took a lot of contracts that I probably shouldn’t have.’ He laid back with his eyes closed then, but continued talking. ‘For years, I travelled from region to region, sacking forts and camps, killing leaders and tipping the balance of power. I fought in – oh, countless battles, from Makedonia to Messenia to Crete. Right up until that night in Boeotia.’  
He opened his eyes then, and their gaze met and held. Thaletas saw real regret in his face.  
Alexios continued, ‘It was stupid. I knew it, the moment I saw you sleeping there in the fort. None of the death and destruction had changed anything. I had killed everything except the pain inside myself.’  
Thaletas didn’t know what to say, so he kissed him, then snuggled into his shoulder; but after a short silence, he asked, ‘You said that’s when you stopped taking out war contracts?’  
‘There were a few exceptions,’ Alexios conceded, but then he gave that half smile again. ‘But I got very good at knocking soldiers out, rather than killing them.’  
Thaletas looked at him in surprise, and began to laugh. ‘You know, I once heard a story which I thought absurd. A hoplite I met told me he had arrived at a new posting at a fort, somewhere in Malis, I think. He told me he found everyone in the place knocked out cold. No one remembered a thing. He thought it was a godly curse!’  
Alexios grinned, appreciating the happy sparkle in Thaletas’ eyes. Gods, he was almost too handsome. ‘Well, I am godly, after all.’ His hands had wandered as Thaletas had been speaking, and it was clear that his mind had strayed to purely earthly things.  
Thaletas teasingly said, ‘You’re really just a man, like any other.’  
Alexios’ eyes gleamed. ‘Is that so? Let me see if I can change your mind.’

In the morning, back on the Adrestia, Alexios presented the armour of Achilles to Thaletas.  
‘I can teach you no more,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘The armour is yours.’  
Flushed with excitement, Thaletas immediately put it on. It fit him well, and accentuated his shape in a way that his Spartan armour never had.  
Alexios said appreciatively, ‘I should have given it to you weeks ago.’  
Thaletas gave him a flirtatious grin. ‘Might be best if I don’t wear it, then. We can’t have our commander not concentrating on where his ship is going.’  
Alexios gave a low growl in his throat, but with a happy smile playing on his lips, he told Barnabas it was time to set sail, and turned his attention to the sea.


	6. Love and War

They arrived at the southern mooring of Chios on a fresh bright morning. The woods were just breaking out into flower as the first truly warm days of spring arrived. There was nothing except the jetty here - no town, no taverns. The crew did not look impressed.  
Pelias the Seductive intercepted Alexios as he and Thaletas were leaving the ship. He had a plaintive tone to his voice. ‘Commander. Don’t you think we might have docked at Chios City?’  
Alexios grinned. ‘Hydrea was too barren for you?’  
Phylas, the ex-Spartan polemarch, interjected in his deep gravelly voice, ‘Too barren for all of us. It’s been months since I had anyone beneath me, and I’m not the only one.’ He hadn’t needed to say so; Alexios had noticed the way he looked at Thaletas, increasingly persistent as the weeks of training had passed on Hydrea, and during the journey there.  
Alexios grinned. ‘Take the ship around, and go get yourselves sorted out. We’ll meet you there.’  
The crew cheered, and as he and Thaletas walked away along the narrow dirt track that led towards the Mastic Farm, Alexios said, ‘Poor Chios City! Have you been here before?’  
Thaletas shook his head. ‘I’ve never been further north than Mykonos.’  
Perhaps there was something wistful in Thaletas' voice, related to his lack of experience of the world; but Alexios glanced at him sharply, suggesting he had misinterpreted it. Before Thaletas could correct him, Alexios had hurried on. 'It’s a quiet kind of place. The Huntress’ Village is at the northern end of the island, but I want to check in on some friends here at the farm.’  
Thaletas said something - he didn't know what. He was thinking, not for the first time, that matters around what had happened with Kyra remained unaddressed between them. Since the night they had spoken at the temple of Athena in Sparta and joyously discovered one another again, Alexios had always brushed Thaletas’ attempts to talk about Kyra aside – or more correctly, his attempts to discuss what had motivated him to stay on the island with her. While Thaletas respected the sensitivity of the subject to his lover, he felt that unless they talked about it, that part of the past would continue to be a block to their growing closeness, a kind of ache that would not go away.  
They passed through rows and rows of trees until they approached a ragged collection of buildings, including a silo, barns and a house, set around a yard. Two dogs began barking, but stopped when Alexios drew closer, slowly wagging their tails. A young man, perhaps in his late teens, roused by the dogs, came out into the yard, and shielding his eyes against the sun, grinned up at Alexios.  
’Chaire, Alexios!’  
He grinned back. ‘Alcinous! How are you? And your mother and brother?’  
They embraced, and Alcinous answered, ‘They’re both well. They’ve gone into the city for the day, and won’t return until later this afternoon.’  
‘I’ll have to find them there, then.’ He gestured at Thaletas, and said, ‘This is my best friend, Thaletas. He used to be a Spartan General, poor man, but now he’s joined me on the Adrestia.’  
Alcinous smiled. ‘Any friend of Alexios' is a friend of ours.’  
‘How do you know each other?’ Thaletas asked.  
Alcinous answered. ‘My brother and I were taken captive by bandits years ago. Alexios saved us, even though Mater couldn’t afford to pay him much.’  
Alexios coloured slightly. ‘She has more than paid me back in kindnesses since then.’  
Alcinous grinned, and invited them in for refreshments.  
‘No, we can’t linger. I just wanted to say hello. You take care of yourself.’ He roughed up the boy’s hair, then gestured for Thaletas that they should go.  
Once they had moved beyond the farmyard, and Alcinous had disappeared back inside the house, Thaletas said, a little teasingly, ‘You told me I should never take a job unless the pay is assured?’  
Alexios looked a little sheepish. ‘It’s good advice; though I admit I haven’t always followed it myself.’  
Thaletas smiled. Before he was aware he was even speaking, he said, ‘And that’s why I love you.’  
He flushed violently. It was one thing to know you loved someone, it was quite another to say it out loud to them; especially when the whole issue was intensely complicated. The question of how their relationship could possibly work in the future hadn't been resolved by leaving Sparta, only put on hold.  
Alexios saw his embarrassment, and looking around to ensure they weren’t being watched, he caught him into an embrace and kissed him deeply. As he released him, he said huskily, ‘I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to hear those words.’  
Thaletas cleared his throat as they started walking again. ‘I've wanted to say them to you every day since Delos - since you declared you wanted me forever. If only it wasn't so complicated...’  
Alexios looked at him sharply. He noticed that, despite everything, Thaletas still spoke as though he was undecided about their relationship. This really stung him. He said tersely, ‘I think you’ll always want to be a Spartan, first and foremost. No matter how far we travel, how much you love me, your loyalty will always be to your country first.’ They had stopped walking, and he crossed his arms, frowning. ‘When I said you should marry and have sons, you said not yet; but one day you’ll do it - one day we’ll go our separate ways.’  
Thaletas was confused by Alexios’ response, and was angry in his turn. ‘Why would you bring that up now?’ He demanded. ‘I just told you I love you, despite everything, and you have the gall to declare I’m going to leave you!’  
Alexios said flatly, ‘Because it’s the truth.’  
‘You don’t know that,’ Thaletas snapped. ‘By Zeus, I don’t even know that! All I know is, when I left the agoge to go to war, I was so sure of my path. Be a good Spartan: win glory, return victorious, marry and have sons. But then I met you,' He dropped his voice. 'Alexios, you changed everything.'  
Alexios narrowed his eyes slightly, and Thaletas continued, ‘You never want to talk about my decision to stay on Mykonos, but you’re going to hear it. The truth is, I stayed with Kyra because I wanted to be the same man I’d been before I met you; hoping that, once you’d gone, the rhythms of my life would one day return to normal, as though you’d never existed. I could keep following that path - she and I would marry, we'd have sons, and when the time came, we’d return to Sparta together.’ He sighed then. ‘It took me longer than it should have to realise the rhythm was gone, changed irrevocably. I no longer wanted the same things; but I had no idea what alternatives there were, what other options I had.’ He scowled at Alexios. ‘Now, when I finally feel like I’m getting somewhere, you tell me I have got nowhere at all!’  
Alexios was still standing with his arms crossed, but he was looking at the ground, the frown gone. He looked up when Thaletas finished speaking. ‘I’m sorry, Thaletas. I spoke without thinking.’  
Thaletas’ looked up into Alexios’ eyes and held his gaze for a long moment before he said, ‘Believe me, Alexios. I love you, and only you; even when you’re being a stupid idiot.’  
Alexios smiled gently. ‘I know. I...’ he hesitated for a long moment before he said, ‘I have never had anyone care for me for long. I've always had to leave, or they’ve been killed, or worst of all, they’ve turned on me.’ His face hardened a little, though his voice remained quiet. ‘Everyone leaves me, one way or another.’  
Thaletas felt his heart swell with sympathy. He said gently, ‘I'm not everyone, Alexios. I'll go with you, wherever you go, for as long as you need me. I swear it.’  
Alexios had a lump in his throat which he tried to swallow away. Tears stood in his eyes. He had never known that love and fear were such close companions. He could not find the words to respond to such a vow, but embraced Thaletas for a long while, his face pressed into his lover’s hair, the familiar scent of leather and musk soothing his frayed edges.  
‘We should go,’ Thaletas said, as a curious group of soldiers approached.  
Alexios nodded, and they turned towards the city. They said no more to each other, but they both felt differently than they had that morning - more certain, more comfortable with each other.

Chios City was curved around a bay, and dominated by a large temple above the city. It was here that Alexios left Thaletas while he went to seek out Ilia and her son.  
Thaletas seated himself on a bench, his face turned up to the sun, his eyes gently closed. It really was a beautiful day, he thought; one which would remain in his memory forever. He had never been so happy.  
He became aware that someone was watching him, and opened his eyes.  
‘If it isn’t our second in command,’ Phylas said in his gravelly voice, a smile playing on his lips. He was drunkenly standing with his hands on his hips, and there was something about the big man’s stance that made Thaletas wary. The lieutenant was easily twice Thaletas’ size, and there was no mistaking his intent in the sleazy leer.  
‘What do you want, Phylas?’ he demanded in his old voice of command.  
The lieutenant grinned wolfishly. ‘I wondered whether the captain’s giving you all that you need, if you follow me. I thought I might be able to help to... fulfil the shortfall, if not.’  
Thaletas coloured, but sternly said, ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’  
Phylas seemed immune to his unwelcoming manner, and moved closer, so that he was now very close, looking down at Thaletas. His eyes lingered on Thaletas’ lips as he said, ‘You could just flip up my pteruges...’  
Thaletas swiftly drew out his dagger, and pointed it at the lieutenant’s bulging nether regions. He looked up at Phylas, who had frozen, and coolly said, ‘If I flip up you pteruges, you will not like what comes next.’  
For a long tense moment, neither of them moved. Thaletas could see the man thinking whether to push his luck; fortunately, he chose instead to burst out laughing. That was a relief. Thaletas didn’t think finding another lieutenant with Phylas' skills would have been easy if he’d been forced to maim him.  
‘You’ve got fire!’ Phylas chortled, stepping back from Thaletas. He walked away unsteadily then, still laughing to himself. It was only as he passed the temple that Thaletas saw that Alexios had been watching the episode from there.  
‘He made you an offer, I suppose?’ he said as he joined Thaletas, a grin on his face.  
‘He did. Not a very appealing one.’ Thaletas said, wrinkling his nose.  
‘I wondered when he would get to it,’ Alexios said, as he stretched his long legs out in the sun. ‘I did consider dismissing him, but I knew you could handle him if it came to that.’  
He was sitting so close to Thaletas, their thighs rested against one another. A warmth tingled between them.  
Thaletas was quiet for a little while, enjoying their nearness, the seclusion and the serenity around them. They hadn’t been alone and quiet since the final night on Hydrea. Reluctantly breaking the spell, he asked, ‘Did you find Ilia?’  
‘No,’ Alexios said. ‘It seems we missed her somehow. She must’ve cut across country to get home. I’ve asked Barnabas to drop by the farm in the morning, to make sure she made it home safely.’  
‘Shouldn’t we go on to the Daughters’ village then?’  
He smiled, a grin as warm as honey, and held Thaletas’ eye as he said, ‘I’m in the mood to take it slowly today.’  
Thaletas felt the colour mount to his cheeks again as a shiver of lust ran through him. ‘Oh?’  
‘Mm,’ he said, leaning in to nuzzle Thaletas' neck, before taking possession of his mouth. His lips were soft, warm and gentle, but his tongue against Thaletas’ was demanding, speaking to the desire that was never far below the surface. Thaletas moaned, feeling himself harden.  
Alexios sat back, chuckling.  
Thaletas said, feigning thoughtfulness, ‘You know, I think I’ve had enough sun for now...’  
Alexios quirked an eyebrow, his own lust clearly visible on his face. ‘Now you mention it, I think I have as well. I know somewhere we can go.’

Thaletas was woken the next morning by the sound of Barnabas bawling out Alexios’ name. He looked up, momentarily disoriented; then he remembered. Alexios had brought him to an abandoned camp just north of Chios City, and in a hut there, they had spent an afternoon of intensely emotional, life affirming lovemaking that Thaletas could feel glowing in his belly. He looked at Alexios, sleeping spread eagled just as he’d fallen, snoring blissfully. He didn’t even stir.  
Feeling his heart brimming over, Thaletas grinned, and quickly threw on his tunic. He ran a hand through his hair, remembering suddenly that Alexios had, at his insistence, cut his braid off the night before. The act had been loaded with significance for him; another step towards shedding his old self. It felt odd without it, but better somehow.  
Outside, dawn had only just broken; the ground was wet with dew, and the first tentative rays of sunlight were just breaching the dark coldness of the camp. Thaletas shivered a little, and pulled a bear pelt closer around his shoulders.  
He called out, ‘What is it, Barnabas? Alexios is dead to the world.’  
Barnabas looked anxious. ‘You’ll have to wake him. There’s trouble. I went to the Mastic Farm this morning as ordered, and it seems his friend Ilia and her son never made it home, as he suspected.’  
Thaletas shook his head sadly. ‘I’ll wake him then,’ and hastened back into the hut.  
‘Alexios,’ he said, patting the side of his face, determinedly not looking at the glorious body stretched out on the pelts.  
‘Not now, my love,’ Alexios murmured.  
‘Yes, now. There’s trouble.’  
He opened one eye, and looked up at Thaletas. ‘Is our peace shattered so soon?’ When Thaletas nodded, he growled; and in a sudden, swift movement, he rolled them both over so that Thaletas was pinned beneath him. He kissed him with all his intensity, their bodies melting together. Thaletas could easily have forgotten there was any demand on them at all, except he could hear Barnabas muttering to himself outside.  
‘Barnabas is here,’ he gasped out, reluctantly, his whole body demanding he forget about it.  
Alexios cursed under his breath, but yielded to the demands of the real world. He gave Thaletas a long look of pure regret, then sprang up. Pulling on his tunic, he stepped out into the morning, greeting Barnabas as though the captain had interrupted nothing of any consequence.

He and Thaletas backtracked to the Mastic Farm to speak to Alcinous, but there was nothing more the young man could tell them. All he knew was that his mother, Ilia and brother Bulis, has gone to town with some chickens to sell, and had not returned. He was doing his best to be brave, but he was clearly terrified that the bandits who had once taken him hostage had returned. Alexios could have assured him that that wasn’t possible - he’d killed them all himself - but he simply ruffled his hair, and said he would investigate.  
‘Would you like to stay on the ship for now? You might feel safer.’  
Alcinous readily agreed, and the three of them returned to Chios City.  
Once Alcinous was settled on the Adrestia, Thaletas asked, ‘What do you think’ happened?’  
Alexios looked thoughtful for a long moment. ‘Someone must’ve seen something. We’ll go to the agora, and ask around.’  
They set to their task, and it was soon apparent that the mother and son had been seen heading north out of the city.  
‘Into Huntress territory,’ Alexios said with a nod. ‘That’s a good thing. We have to go to the village anyway, and they will be able to tell us what we want to know. It they haven’t got Ilia and Bulis themselves, they’ll know who has.’

The route was straightforward - a small winding trail that led away from the city between two hills, following a river for its last stretches.  
The village itself was built in a wet valley, a kind of gloomy, unpleasant place, Thaletas thought; and Alexios hadn’t been wrong. The Daughters were in no way welcoming, but neither did they stop their leader from striding into the centre of the town, seemingly oblivious to their resentment - or possibly their arrogance. It was hard to tell which was at the root of the matter.  
The lead huntress, a large, muscular woman named Hermippa, came out of her hut and greeted Alexios coolly.  
‘Chaire,’ he said. ‘I received your summons.’  
She nodded. ‘The new recruits need to be approved.’  
Alexios sighed inwardly. ‘I told you - you have to live with them, the decision is always yours. I trust to your judgement.’  
‘Tradition,’ she said stonily, ‘demands our leader’s approval.’  
He nodded. ‘Well – I’m here now. You had better put them through their paces.’  
As one of the Daughters went away to fetch the new recruits, Hermippa noticed Thaletas. ‘Who’s he?’ she asked, eyeing him with interest.  
Alexios said casually, ‘Thaletas. My lover.’  
Thaletas was shocked, and flushed very red. Several of the women noticed his blush, and tittered. Even Hermippa smiled; though when she said, ‘He’s sweet, isn’t he?’ she sounded as surly as ever.  
Alexios grinned lopsidedly, meeting Thaletas’ eye for the barest instant. ‘He is - like honey.’  
The recruits approached, and until the sun reached its zenith, Alexios quizzed them, and had them conduct archery and animal handling demonstrations. Thaletas thought it was never going to end, but at last, Alexios called a halt. He gathered them together and praised the recruits before sending them on their way.  
He turned to Hermippa. ‘Another worthy group,’ he said approvingly, ‘As always.’  
‘Thank you,’ she said, the shadow of a smile crossing her face.  
‘We’ll be on our way; though, before we go, I need to know if our women saw a mother and her son entering the forest yesterday from the direction of the city. It would have been at midday or sometime soon after.’  
Hermippa said crisply, ‘I will ask those who were guarding that quarter and report to you. You are staying at the Abandoned Camp again tonight?’  
‘No, we’ll be on the Adrestia, moored in Chios City.’  
She nodded curtly, and without further chatter, Alexios indicated to Thaletas they should go.

When they’d reached the road, which would take them back into the city, Thaletas said almost breathlessly, ‘I can’t believe you just told them about us like that!’  
Alexios raised an eyebrow. ‘You object?’  
Thaletas was flushed. ‘Not object exactly… It just feels...’ he trailed off, lost for the right words.  
‘Strange? Yes. Everywhere else, we have to pretend, so it does feel foreign to hear the truth spoken aloud. Amongst the Daughters though, we have no reason to hide our love.’  
For a moment he looked puzzled, then made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth. ‘You mean, they love one another, rather than men?’  
‘Most of them, yes.’  
He looked thoughtful. ‘I had never thought about women laying with women before.’  
Alexios was amused. ‘The world is full of surprises.’

Later that afternoon, Alexios was sitting with his legs dangling over the side of the Adrestia, watching a pod of dolphins swimming and diving in the harbour, while he worked at constructing arrows for himself and the crew. He had spent probably years of his life crafting arrows; he though he would have been able to make them blindfolded.  
Barnabas called to him, and glancing over his shoulder, he saw a cloaked figure waiting to speak with him. Dumping the olive wood that had been in his lap onto the deck, he went to see who it was.  
‘Hermippa sent me,’ the woman said. ‘Those you seek came into the forest to meet with a group of pirates; one in particular, their leader, Kerkyon. They went with him to the dock in the west, and were put aboard a vessel that seemed to be waiting for them.’  
Alexios frowned. ‘They went willingly?’  
She nodded.  
‘Interesting. Did you see where the ship was going?’  
‘Towards Lemnos,’ she said. ‘We’ve seen that ship come and go many times.’  
Alexios thanked her, and she nodded, before melting away into the crowd on the dock.  
Barnabas said, ‘Strange to go willingly, but leave one son behind!’  
‘Yes,’ Alexios said, his brow furrowed. ‘Strange indeed. Tomorrow we’ll go to Lemnos, see if we can’t trace her there,’ He looked around, and suddenly realising he was missing, asked, ‘Where’s Thaletas?’  
‘He said he was going to the temple, to make an offering.’  
He frowned. ‘An offering? That’s not like him.’  
Barnabas grinned. ‘To Aphrodite, he said. In thanks, I suppose.’  
Alexios grinned back, but said nothing. He turned back to his arrow making, but Barnabas noticed that the smile remained on his face all afternoon.

Thaletas returned to the ship on dusk, and Alexios watched him approach from where he was sitting on the bench behind the bridge. Sometimes he still had the feeling that it must be a dream - that he would wake up at any moment and find that Thaletas had never been his; he was so lovely. He'd changed a lot, he thought. Without the braid, his hair cropped short, he looked as though he had just got out of bed; the armour of Achilles flattered his broad shoulders and narrow waist; but it was the new air of settled happiness which had changed him the most.  
He came and sat beside Alexios, setting about lighting the fire on the bridge.  
‘Did the Daughters send us a messenger?’ he asked.  
‘They did. They saw Ilia and her son board a pirate ship bound for Lemnos. We’ll sail there tomorrow. It’s only a small island. We should be able to find them.’  
Thaletas nodded. Once he had the fire burning brightly, he settled beside Alexios, and asked, ‘Do you know Lemnos well?’  
Alexios nodded. ‘Yes, we stop there at least every year. Barnabas has a nephew on the island; and there was a time I sought shelter there. After Amphipolis, and when I’d given up taking war contracts, I came here for a time.’  
Thaletas frowned. ‘You took part of the Battle of Amphipolis? I didn’t know that.’  
Alexios had grown melancholy. Softly, he said, ‘Yes. I don’t like to talk about it. I went to fight beside my best friend, Brasidas. He didn’t survive. He was ruthlessly speared through the head.’  
Thaletas said, equally softly. ‘I’m sorry.’ He rested a hand on Alexios’ thigh, and Alexios dropped his own hand over it.  
They sat like that in silence, staring into the fire for a moment before Alexios said, ‘I failed him. I should have got to him in time. My sister, Kassandra, she’s the one who killed him. No one else could have stopped her.’  
Thaletas knew Kassandra’s story, and shook his head slowly. ‘Even so. We all feel responsible for those we cared for, but couldn’t save. Do you know what happened to Herodianus?’  
Alexios remembered Thaletas’ likable second in command on Mykonos, but said, ‘No – I never heard of him again after I left the island.’  
Thaletas nodded slowly, before taking a deep breath. ‘I’ve never talked about it to anyone… We were sent to Boeotia together, to reclaim the region from Athens. The battle was terrible; we were vastly outnumbered. The Polemarch was too eager. Herodianus and I fought side by side. It was nearing the end of the battle when an enormous Athenian attacked Herodianus. I joined in, fighting with him as one unit. We’d practiced together many times, so I knew he had a habit of overextending himself, and I did what I could to compensate for it…’  
He trailed off, and when he recommenced, his voice was almost a whisper. ‘The Athenian spotted the weakness. I saw it in his eyes. He unleashed a furious blow against my shield. Caved it right in. I had to leap back, or he’d have done the same to my head. I reeled… and by the time I righted myself, Herodianus had been slammed in the side of the head with a mace. He was almost unrecognisable when I returned to fetch the body.’ He was struggling to swallow the lump in his throat. ‘I feel so… guilty. I should have done more.’  
Alexios murmured, ‘No, my love; no. It’s not your fault.’  
Thaletas, as though something inside him had finally given way, and not giving a damn if anyone was watching, leant into Alexios’ shoulder then and sobbed.  
Alexios put his arm around him comfortingly. At least, he thought, having lost so much else, they had found one another again.


	7. Laying Ghosts to Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sound of one voice could be heard singing – tuneless, unaccompanied by music.  
> Thaletas glanced at Alexios, who gave him the same wry smile again. ‘Mikkos,’ he explained.

It was the mid-morning of a sunny day when they moored at Lemnos, coming alongside a small dock which seemed to be miles from anywhere. The island from there looked like a sheer cliff face, and it was only as Thaletas, following Alexios and Barnabas, rounded a hairpin bend in the path that he saw the house above.  
‘Where are we?’ he asked Alexios.  
‘This is the house where Barnabas’ nephew lives,’ Alexios said. ‘Though it’s owned by Mikkos, his caretaker.’  
Thaletas frowned. ‘Why does he have a caretaker?’  
Alexios said, ‘He used to be a professional athlete, and Mikkos was supposed to keep him to his diet and training regime.’  
‘Supposed to?’  
Alexios gave him a wry smile. ‘When you meet Mikkos, you’ll understand where he went wrong; we found out too late what was going on here. His neglect led to Neleus being poisoned by the Cult of Cosmos, and though we got the antidote to Neleus before it killed him, he never fully recovered his strength. He torments himself with what happened – Mikkos, I mean – and in some ways, their roles are reversed now; Neleus looks after Mikkos.’  
They’d reached the top of the path, and the house hove into view again; double storey, with one outbuilding for the slaves. The sound of one voice could be heard singing – tuneless, unaccompanied by music.  
Thaletas glanced at Alexios, who gave him the same wry smile again. ‘Mikkos,’ he explained.  
The house had been freshly whitewashed, and there were four young athletes in the yard training. They were lifting weights and heckling one another’s form.  
Barnabas’ face lit up. ‘Neleus! You’re looking well!’  
A slouching young man, who had been supervising the students, came towards them with the kind of vinegary smile he had. ‘Uncle. It’s been a while.’  
‘It has. You remember the Eagle Bearer? This is his friend, Thaletas.’  
‘Chare, Alexios, Thaletas.’ A smile tilted the corner of his mouth. ‘I hope you’ve warned your friend here about Mikkos.’  
Alexios glanced at Thaletas before looking back at Neleus with one brow raised. ‘Is he in a bad way again? I thought after last time, we’d laid that ghost to rest.’  
Neleus shook his head. ‘He was quiet about it for a while, but he’s been sentimental lately. Drinking more than usual, talking a lot about the old days.’  
‘Great,’ Alexios said dryly. ’Just what we need.’  
Barnabas took Neleus’ attention then, and Thaletas took the opportunity to ask quietly, ‘What did he mean, “the old days”?’  
Alexios had flushed a little. It made Thaletas nervous. ‘You know I told you I stayed here for a time? After Boeotia?’  
Thaletas nodded.  
‘I was drinking a lot then – I mean, a lot; I made some poor decisions – involving Mikkos.’  
Thaletas held his gaze as he asked, ‘You had a relationship with him?’  
Alexios nodded, watching his face and hoping that he wouldn’t react badly. ‘Of sorts.’ He knew he should have mentioned it before, but Mikkos hadn’t been so bad the last time he’d visited Lemnos. He’d been sober, for one thing, so they’d talked sensibly about the past. Mikkos had acknowledged that their liaison had been a passing thing, and there would be no rerun. Mikkos had been sad, but resigned.  
Thaletas felt like he had a mouthful of sawdust as he asked, ‘Did you… love him?’  
Alexios shook his head. ‘No, not really – not as I love you.’ He would have said more, but Mikkos at that moment came stumbling out of the house. Alexios braced himself for the onslaught.  
‘Misthios!’ Mikkos cried out, lunging at him, and embraced him around his middle while Alexios, with a grimace on his face, held his arms out of the way, looking down on the back of the greasy head pressed against his chest. ‘I dreamt about you last night, and here you are!’  
Dryly, he said, ‘Mikkos. You’ve started early today.’  
Mikkos laughed as he released him and stumbled backwards slightly. ‘Started! I haven’t finished yet!’ He grinned. ‘You’re a glorious vision, sent by the gods!’ Then he dropped his voice. ‘Though not so glorious as you were that time at the ruins, if you know what I mean.’ He gave a wink that involved his whole face.  
Alexios grimaced and tried to change the topic. ‘Mikkos – you should meet my friend and right-hand man, Thaletas.’  
Mikkos looked to where Alexios had gestured, and squinted to bring Thaletas into focus. ‘Oh! Aren’t you something? Young, handsome…’ He trailed off in the face of Thaletas’ stony stare. He swung his attention back to Alexios with a pout. ‘This young man makes me quite jealous. Why didn’t you take me as your right-hand man? I could have done whatever you needed – and more,’ he said, his meaning obvious.  
Alexios shook his head, and in an attempt to diffuse some of the awkwardness of the situation, he joked, ‘You’d have fallen overboard long ago, Mikkos – if you could get sober enough to find the ship in the first place.’  
He pouted again. ‘That’s not fair! I could always find you.’  
Barnabas, who had watched this exchange with disgust, seized Mikkos by the shoulders and turned him towards the house. ‘Come on, you. Time to eat something.’  
Mikkos allowed himself to be pushed into the house, and Alexios sighed with relief, and gestured to Thaletas that they should go, leaving Neleus to return to the students who had watched the exchange, tittering behind their hands.

Alexios and Thaletas walked towards the city, at first in silence, as Alexios waited for Thaletas to speak first, and after a short while, Thaletas said with some bitterness, ‘You should have warned me before we came here.’  
Alexios said, ‘I know, but I really had thought he’d moved on.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Are you angry with me?’  
Thaletas wasn’t sure whether he was angry or not. Perhaps he was only unsettled by being confronted by one of Alexios’ lovers. Yes, he thought, that was it. It was the question of love. His voice was tight as he asked, ‘You said you didn’t love him like you loved me – but you did love him, in a way?’  
Alexios sounded melancholy as he said, ‘I promise you - I’ve never loved anyone as I love you – not ever.’ Thaletas glanced at him for a moment, meeting his eye. He sighed as Alexios continued, ‘After I saw you that night in Boeotia, I was a wreck. I wanted to erase everything from my mind – every memory. I’d spent years killing and fighting in an attempt to forget the pain, and after I realised that hadn’t worked, I came here and tried to drink it away. I was a wreck,’ he repeated quietly. ‘Not as bad as Mikkos now is, but...’ He looked out to sea to avoid meeting Thaletas’ eye. ‘I promised you the truth always, and this is it: I loved him, as a drowning man might love a log to which he can cling. I tried to find some comfort in him, and he tried to provide what I needed. He couldn’t; I asked too much of a man already broken himself.’  
Thaletas considered this as he continued to stare ahead at the road. He’d always known that Alexios must have had other lovers after him, but it was still something of a shock to meet one of them, and one who evidently still wanted Alexios for himself; yet Thaletas could feel pity for Mikkos. He, better than anyone perhaps, could appreciate how hard Alexios was to lose, and what that cost a man.  
‘Was he always like that? Mikkos?’ he asked.  
‘A drunk, you mean? No. That is, he always drank – that’s the kind of place Thasos is; but he did have it together. At least, he used to wash regularly, and not drink at mid-morning.’  
Thaletas said softly, ‘Until he lost you.’  
Alexios sighed, and ran a hand over his face. ‘That didn’t help. In a way, I feel responsible for him. I do still care for him, even though I can’t help him. You cannot hold that against me.’  
Thaletas nodded half to himself. ‘No,’ he said, meeting Alexios’ eye reassuringly. ‘I can’t. Are there others that I should know about?’  
Alexios gave a hint of a smile, sensing the shift in Thaletas’ mood. ‘That openly pine for me like that? No. People I’ve been involved with whose paths we might cross? One or two.’ He shrugged.  
They continued in silence until the city walls appeared before them, when Alexios tentatively asked, ‘What about you? Is there anyone I should know to watch out for?’  
Thaletas said dryly, ‘Only Kyra.’  
Alexios smiled. ‘We could go to Mykonos after this if you like, get it out of the way?’  
Thaletas shook his head. Only half joking, he said, ‘If she saw us together, I don’t think we’d either of us get off that island alive.’  
Alexios chuckled, but then sobered. ‘She has no reason to hate either of us. Your relationship ran its course.’  
Thaletas shook his head, and said quietly, ‘She realised what happened between us changed me. I don’t think she’ll forgive either of us for that.’ Thoughtfully, he said, ‘Sometimes I think that finding out what happened after we met is harder than accepting what came before.’  
Alexios nodded. ‘All those years…’  
‘Filled with war,’ Thaletas finished.

They reached the city, and set about asking around if anyone knew of a pirate camp on the island, and were soon directed to the Paliochni Ruins. The townspeople all cursed when they were asked about the presence of the pirates there. Everyone believed they had come from the north of Lesbos, two summers since, and had been gaining in strength since.  
Alexios frowned and looked lost in thought.  
Thaletas asked, ‘Does something bother you about that information?’  
Alexios said, ‘No – just wondering how to approach the situation from here. I suppose I’ll sneak into the camp tonight and see if Ilia is there. I still can’t imagine what led her to leave Alcinous.’  
Thaletas said, ‘I’ve been thinking about that. Perhaps she was in debt, and entered voluntary slavery to repay it?’  
‘And she took one son with her?’  
He shrugged. ‘Perhaps she did it for him, Alcinous – rather than sell them both, she went herself, leaving him free?’  
Alexios looked disturbed by this idea. ‘Gods – if that’s true, that boy is going to be devastated.’  
‘Well – we’ll know more tonight.’  
Alexios asked, ‘You still want to take these contracts?’  
He nodded. ‘I don’t know what Ilia looks like, so it must be you to go after her. Besides, it’s time I started using those skills you taught me.’  
Alexios smiled at him fondly, but said nothing.  
Thaletas looked around himself absently, his mind already running ahead to what he must do. A politically motivated assassination, a bounty on a group of Athenians over on Thasos, and the delivery of a few items around Green City. ‘I’ll get going, take care of these deliveries this afternoon,’ he said, bringing his mind back to the moment. ‘I’ll meet you back at Mikkos' tonight.’  
Alexios nodded, and risking the stares of the handful of men and women nearby, he took Thaletas’ hand. ‘Come back to me,’ he said softly. He wished he could pull Thaletas to his chest. There was something about him that suddenly seemed young and vulnerable; though he reminded himself that this was a man he had seen face armies without flinching. He would be alright.  
For a long moment, they looked into one another’s eyes. Thaletas felt warmth course through his veins, and grasped Alexios’ hand back, squeezing it. With his old Spartan hardness, which Alexios realised had been out of sight lately, he said, ‘I’ll find you. At Mikkos’ house… or in Hades.’

The rain came in in the late afternoon in a flurry of thunder and lightning, lighting the island in fits and starts, before settled rain set in. The darkness of no star- or moonlight suited Alexios, but he could have done without the rain.  
Alexios crouched in a low shrub. He had surveyed the camp that afternoon. It was a step up from most pirate camps, with a more settled air about it – he almost called it a pirate village. Many of the ruined houses had been re-roofed with old sails, and there were many women dressed in civilian dress, and children ran about. Early in the evening, a whole pig was set to roast over a fire in the middle of an open space over which a sail had been slung to keep out the rain. The pirates who were armed, numbering perhaps twenty, were coming and going, oblivious to anything outside the camp. He noted only the most cursory of guards, and even they were chatting between themselves.  
He had spotted Ilia early on; now, as the night drew on and the pig had been eaten, she had drawn aside, and was sitting with Bulis beside her. She was talking to him in a low voice – too low for Alexios to hear. The boy looked miserable, he noticed, but Ilia was sitting with her chin jutting, as though defying anyone to question her.  
He had seen immediately that she was in this camp with her son both willingly, and freely. She had not sold herself for the repayment of a debt, but what else she could be doing there he wouldn’t know, unless he had the chance to question her.  
It was perhaps the middle of the night before the pirates at last began to turn in; Bulis went reluctantly, sulkily even, with a handful of other children into one of the buildings, shoved in that direction by his mother, before she turned out into the darkness, probably to relieve herself.  
Alexios stopped her as she left the circle of light cast by the campfire. She caught a scream at the last moment, before clutching at her chest and hissing ‘Alexios! You scared me!’  
‘Be quick,’ he said tersely. ‘Tell me why you’re here.’  
She jutted her chin out in that same defiant gesture he’d witnessed earlier. ‘I’ve come to be with Kerkyon. He’s Bulis’ father.’  
Alexios was stunned. ‘What! You told me the boys’ father had died!’  
‘Alcinous’ father did – killed by the bandits who tried to take our farm all those years ago. He never knew that Bulis wasn’t his.’  
Alexios was angry on Alcinous’ behalf. ‘So, you’ve run back to your old lover, with his son – but what about your other son? What did you think Alcinous would do?’  
She gathered herself up, and haughtily said, ‘You underestimate my son. I waited until he was old enough to care for himself. He knows what to do on the farm. I knew he would manage without us.’  
Alexios growled, ‘You didn’t think about how he would cope with losing you, not knowing what had happened?’  
She scoffed. ‘People lose their families all the time to pirates and bandits. He would have got over it.’  
Alexios said coldly, ‘I will tell him what you’ve done. He’ll know you don’t deserve his mourning.’  
‘Then you will only hurt him,’ she said, turning away, ‘And I know you won’t do that.’  
He watched her retreating back, and quickly withdrew back into the forest. He was so angry on Alcinous’ behalf, he considered killing the pirate captain out of general principles; but that would only cause more pain, and he had had enough of that in his own life to know better.

Alexios returned to Mikkos’ House with a heavy heart. There was the sound of Neleus and Barnabas talking inside, and as he slipped in, he was glad of the warmth generated by the brazier that was burning brightly.  
‘Alexios – you’re soaked to the bone,’ Barnabas said.  
Alexios said, ‘Never mind about that. Where’s Alcinous?’  
Neleus said, ‘Upstairs, sleeping.’  
Alexios nodded. ‘And Thaletas hasn’t come back yet?’  
Barnabas shook his head. ‘Did you find Ilia?’  
Alexios sat down heavily on the carpet and sighed. ‘I did.’ He told them what he had learnt.  
Barnabas sighed. ‘What are you going to tell him - Alcinous?’  
Alexios shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I really don’t.’

Alexios woke the following morning. For a moment he was puzzled to find himself at Mikkos’ House, but then he remembered the previous night. He looked around, expecting to find Thaletas asleep there, but only Mikkos was home, putting together his breakfast.  
‘Did you sleep well, misthios?’ He sounded sober, which was a good sign.  
‘I did, thank you. You’re looking better this morning.’  
Mikkos sighed unhappily and continued preparing his food. ‘I was very drunk yesterday. Did I say anything… stupid?’  
Alexios raised one eyebrow. ‘If you mean, did you proposition me, then yes, you did; but don’t worry. It’s not the first time.’  
He looked pained. ‘If I’d known you were coming, I wouldn’t have taken so much wine. I know how I get.’  
Alexios rested a hand briefly on his shoulder. ‘It’s alright, Mikkos. We all do stupid things sometimes.’ He moved to the other side of the room, and leant against the wall, staring out the door.  
Mikkos looked at him with a shadow of a smile. ‘Thank you for letting me off the hook, though I don’t deserve it.’  
Alexios shook his head. ‘You know I will always be grateful for what you gave me, all those years ago. I can’t hold your indiscretions against you.’  
For a moment, Mikkos looked very bitter, but he turned back to the food he was preparing. ‘Gratitude is all well and good, Alexios; you know I’ll always want more than that.’  
Alexios sighed. He knew he had to tell him the truth about Thaletas, but he also knew it was going to hurt him. ‘I won’t toy with you Mikkos. The truth is, my heart belongs elsewhere.’  
He turned sharply then. ‘You’ve fallen in love?’  
‘I have.’  
‘It’s that Spartan, isn’t it?’ he demanded. ‘The handsome one with the shiny armour that I’m sure I’ve seen you wear.’  
Alexios nodded. ‘His name is Thaletas.’  
A look crossed Mikkos’ face: pain, and something else which Alexios couldn’t define. ‘What is it?’  
Mikkos said, ‘I’ve heard that name before, from you.’  
Alexios shook his head. ‘I never talked about him.’  
‘You did once, in your sleep. I thought he must be dead.’ He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face. ‘Gods – I know you’d told me that we were a thing of the past, and I believed you, I really did; but then I think I still hoped that in time…’ He turned away then, leaving the food where it sat. ‘I can’t do this anymore.’  
He rushed out of the door, and when Alexios hurried after him, he saw that he was climbing the hill behind the house, towards the ruins. He let him go.  
Barnabas emerged from the outbuilding. He looked after Mikkos, then at Alexios. ‘You told him about Thaletas, I suppose.’  
Alexios nodded. ‘He took it as badly as I expected. Speaking of Thaletas, he still hasn’t come back from Thasos?’  
Barnabas shook his head.  
‘Well, I better go after him, make sure he hasn’t got into any scrapes.’  
‘And I’ll go after Mikkos. The fool will probably fall to his death, and none of us want that on our conscience.’


	8. That Crafty Demosthenes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Eagle bearer,’ he said, the voice vaguely familiar, and definitely Athenian. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’  
> He asked equally coolly, ‘Do you need something?’  
> ‘Actually, I’m here to help,’ he said, the grin deepening but remaining cold. ‘I have what you’re looking for.’  
> ‘Which is?’  
> ‘A shiny little Spartan, twinkling in golden armour.’

Alexios caught a ride on a merchant vessel that was doing the crossing to Thasos – he didn’t want the crew of the Adrestia to know if Thaletas had got himself into trouble, and besides, it was nice to relax and not be the commander for a while. It was a bright sunny morning, and he sat on the deck watching the dolphins dancing in and out the boats wake, and the flocks of gulls circling overhead.  
He was worried about Thaletas; his instincts told him that something had gone wrong – probably seriously so - but he did his best to minimise his concern by reminding himself that the Spartan was strong and capable. Perhaps he’d been spotted – either taking out the politician, or trying to infiltrate the Athenian outpost called Kinira; in which case, he might just be laying low, waiting for the heat to pass.  
That was entirely possible, he told himself… but a niggling sensation at the base of his skull told him this wasn’t the case.

Thasos City was a busy bustle of merchants trading their wares; athletes on their long aimless training runs; fishermen spruiking their produce or travelling to and from the jetty with fishing lines over one shoulder; and numerous worshippers passing to and from Thasos Temple up on the hill above the city. He headed for the notice board in the agora. He knew that it would be here that he might learn what had happened. He surveyed the bounties that were new, official bulletins put up by the magistrates of the city, or plain gossip, posted by, he imagined, old busybodies with too much time on their hands.  
He saw that the politician had been assassinated - there was outrage and a reward offered by the leader of the islands for information on who had perpetrated the crime. Alexios smiled. So; Thaletas had successfully avoided detection. He’d learnt well; but then his smile faded. If he had successfully completed that bounty, that left only the Athenians to have caused him trouble... and that was not a comforting thought. Thaletas had so recently been at the head of Spartan armies, it was entirely possible he had been recognised; his head would be worth a fortune.  
He turned away from the notice board deep in thought, and that’s when he noticed he was being watched. A soldier, he decided, but not in uniform – identifiable by his having the kind of attitude which took up more space than his physical self, and when he grinned - which he did when he realised he had been seen - it was a kind of chilly, menacing grin. As he swaggered over, slowly and deliberately, Alexios tensed.  
‘Eagle bearer,’ he said, the voice vaguely familiar, and definitely Athenian. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’  
He asked equally coolly, ‘Do you need something?’  
‘Actually, I’m here to help,’ he said, the grin deepening but remaining cold. ‘I have what you’re looking for.’  
‘Which is?’  
‘A shiny little Spartan, twinkling in golden armour.’  
Alexios felt something in his chest catch, but he remained calm. ‘Who are you?’  
He shook his head. ‘All you need to know is Demosthenes sent me. He wants his contract completed. In exchange, you’ll get your friend back.’  
Alexios laughed, bitterly. ‘By Zeus, why doesn’t he just find another mercenary? He’s already made it impossible for me to work in Attika and half of the Greek world. Surely that’s punishment enough; and what’s the point of killing Isadas now? The rebellion in Arkadia is long over.’  
The man only shrugged. ‘He wants it done. He doesn’t have to give you reasons – but… surely the safety of your… “special friend” is enough of a reason?’  
Alexios gritted his teeth. ‘I want to know where you’ve taken him. How do I know he’s even still alive?’  
‘You don’t.’ He turned away then, saying over his shoulder as he walked away, ‘Just get it done, misthios, and the Spartan will be returned to your ship.’  
Alexios watched him leave, then using Icaros, he traced him across the island to the Kinira Outpost, where he settled in, apparently. Alexios could see no sign of Thaletas there.  
He cursed. So, the bounty had been a trap. Trust that crafty bastard Demosthenes to come up with a plan like that. He must have been tracking them all this time – watching, and gathering information – there was no other way they could know that Thaletas meant more to him than any of his other lieutenants.  
He sat on the plinth below the statue of the champion in the agora, his arms crossed, frowning fiercely at the statue of Hermes above the noticeboard, but seeing nothing, feeling irritated and worried. How much else did those bastards know? Did they realise that Thaletas and Isadas were brothers? Demosthenes was aware Alexios had his Spartan citizenship back – the whole damn world knew that - so he certainly knew what the completion of the contract would mean – did he want Alexios exiled from Sparta? What would he gain from that? Demosthenes had once suggested that Alexios might be granted Athenian citizenship – did it rankle that Alexios had chosen Sparta instead?  
He cursed again, but realised that these were matters beside the point for now. He had to decide what he was going to do next.  
Out of general principles, he would not do as Demosthenes demanded. He would not be bullied, and he knew that Thaletas would wholeheartedly agree with that, even if it meant his own death. There could be no honour, only shame, in the purchase of Thaletas’ life with his brother’s death.  
So, unless he was willing to slaughter Demosthenes himself, which he wouldn’t even contemplate (besides, he thought with a snort, he would only be replaced by someone else who would pick up the reins and continue to ride the same damn horse) - he would have to find and rescue Thaletas.  
The Athenians could not have got far with Thaletas since last night. He must either still be on Thasos, or they would have had to ship him away; and if they did that, on a small island like Thasos with only two harbours, they would have been observed. Someone would have seen something. He decided he should check this latter option first. He could search Thasos later, if there was no hint of his having been shipped off somewhere else.  
He went down to the harbour of Thasos City, and his questioning bore fruit remarkably quickly. The very first man he approached, a fisherman selling red and pink fish, turned out to be one of those loquacious types. ‘I was out in my boat this morning, before dawn - I can’t tell you where, it’s a secret hotspot you know...’  
Alexios interrupted patiently. ‘Do I look like I work in fish espionage? I’m not going to tell anyone, nor muscle in on your stake. I just need to know where it was you saw what you saw.’  
The fisherman laughed at the idea of fish conducting espionage, which hadn't been what Alexios meant, but then said, ‘OK. You’re right, I’ll tell you. It’s just off the coast of Lemnos, near the small dock, beside the Cryptic Cavern. You know, no one seems to fish there – I don’t know why, but it’s always a peaceful place to cast your nets.’  
Alexios breathed slowly to calm his impatience. ‘What did you see there that makes you think my friend was involved?’  
He considered this. ‘Well, I see ships and smaller boats coming from the stronghold there all the time, but that particular ship I had seen here, yesterday; that’s what caught my eye first – red sail, with a strange design. Then I noticed a bunch of men in dark tunics offloading a prisoner. I’d not have paid that much mind either, I suppose, but the prisoner was swearing at the top of his lungs. It was the virulence of the cursing that really caught my attention. I can tell you, I wouldn’t be surprised if they heard him in Hades.’ He chuckled. ‘I thought he was probably just a new slave - you know how they can be at first. I can say with certainty that he was a Spartan though. They have a way with words all their own.’  
Alexios nodded. ‘You said there was a symbol on the sail?’  
‘Yes – I say strange because I couldn’t tell what it was supposed to be. Looked like a misshapen crab, or a bird maybe.’  
‘Thank you,’ Alexios said. ‘You’ve been very helpful.’  
‘You’re welcome. Just don’t tell anyone about my spot,’ he said good-naturedly, and Alexios promised he wouldn’t.

So, Alexios thought as he sought out a boat to take him back to Lemnos, they’ve taken him to the Ancient Stronghold. That figured. After he, Alexios, had personally driven the cult out of that fortress years before, the Athenians, who’d controlled the islands at the time, had moved in, and had consequently been unshakable in the region thereafter, right up until the supposed peace they were allegedly enjoying right now.  
Alexios snorted at the thought. In reality, the fighting hadn’t stopped; it'd just gone underground, and become subversion and espionage. There were no more conquest battles like before, no open aggression; but Alexios could testify to the fact that bounties of the kind that had lured Thaletas into Demosthenes' trap were more common than ever. It was clear neither side trusted the other completely - they were certainly more watchful than ever, spies were everywhere, contracts to steal documents were common - all but unheard of before. Everything was done very carefully, so that the Generals could keep their hands officially clean. Even this damn contract that Demosthenes was so determined to give him against his will would be unknown outside Athens, and roundly denied were it to become known. In a way, he had preferred things as they'd been.  
He turned his thoughts back to the task at hand.  
The supposed peace would explain the lack of identifying insignia on the captors and the ship the fisherman had witnessed - he had no doubt they were Athenian.  
He would have to be very careful in his approach. If he was discovered before he had found Thaletas, the Spartan would be killed. Luckily for him, and what the Athenians couldn’t possibly know, was just how familiar he was with the stronghold; there was no hidden corner he hadn’t stuck his nose into before - including the secret room with the elaborate code that had driven him around the Greek world climbing statues. He would be able to get in and find Thaletas easily enough; it would be getting him out that would be the hard part. 

Alexios surveyed the extent of the Ancient Stronghold from the exit of the Cryptic Cavern, across the small inlet which came in nearby from the sea. The fortress was still imposing, menacing even. It was dusk, the sun having already sunk below the horizon, and in the growing gloom, the stronghold seemed to be brooding on the hillside, watching him.  
The last time he had crouched in this position, back when the stronghold had been in the hands of the cult, the caves had been the main barracks area, but he saw immediately that that must have changed. In the intervening years, the area beside the small inlet from the sea, outside the main gate stretching along the length of the wall, had been transformed. There had been small huts there for slaves, and some old metalworking pits; this had been cleared away, the road that came from the direction of Mikkos’ House had been walled and gated, and the space created had been filled with rows of blue tents.  
He couldn’t guess where Thaletas would be, exactly - he could be anywhere between the hidden room at the top of the fortress and the caves below; in between were mostly ramparts and training spaces – nowhere that seemed logical for securing a prisoner, except perhaps in one of the two small buildings on the terrace above the main gate.  
He considered this as he waited for night to settle in, deciding that the caves were the most likely place, though the hidden room and its associated structure were a strong second possibility. It would certainly be easier to get into the stronghold from the top – there was barely a wall to speak of beside the hidden room, and it had never been guarded very well.  
He decided that he would try to get in that way, then work his way systematically downwards to the cave entrance, searching as much as he could on the way.

He clambered up the rocky wall right at the top of the stronghold, near the hidden room, and slipped over the edge. A soldier was standing guard obliviously, looking out at the night. Alexios was never surprised at how bad sentries could be anymore. They got complacent so easily, lost all sense of why they were there, and never followed up on strange sounds or movements in the bushes as they should.  
He slipped unnoticed into the structure containing the hidden room - a kind of summer house, he supposed, with fretwork screens, columns and walls open to the elements. There was no one inside the building – though two guards were yawning at the opening that looked down over the stronghold. Alexios slipped amongst the stacks of supply crates that filled the room, and entered the chamber with the mechanism for unlocking the hidden room, and swiftly punched in the code. The doors swung open silently, but Thaletas wasn’t there.  
He wasn’t surprised really – chances were the Athenians didn’t even know the combination.  
He slipped out one side of the building, and then through the ridiculously elaborate gateway, keeping to the shadows. In a training area ahead, a group of Athenian soldiers, dressed as civilians, were drinking and talking in a circle, lit by many torches. They were listening to a musical group performing a series of songs celebrating Athens – clearing up any doubt as to their origins, Alexios thought with a wry inner smile.  
A short while later, he reached the cave opening without a single man knowing he’d been there. So much for vigilance!  
The cave was dark, with no torches to light the way. It was hard going and he stumbled a couple of times, freezing each time, listening intently to make sure no one had heard; but it would have been more of a risk to light a torch himself.  
Alexios remembered that this end of the tunnel led to the lower of two cave chambers. Above, there was an upper chamber which led out to the inlet. This lower area, the old barracks in the days of the cult, was reached coming that way by a short dive into ice cold water. He would not be able to get Thaletas out that way even if he found him.  
As the tunnel opened out into this lower chamber, he was confronted by a terrible smell - the smell of death and decay. There was some ambient light here, and as his eyes slowly distinguished shapes emerging from the general gloom, he saw that he had been right - things had definitely changed since he’d been there last. Large cages had been installed, crammed hard against one another; he couldn’t gauge how many in the poor light.  
He cautiously approached the nearest and in a low voice, asked, ‘Is anyone alive in there?’  
‘Yes,’ several voices replied, all equally muted as his.  
‘Who are you?’  
A couple of voices began to whisper at the same time, but one of them said, ‘He won’t be able to hear us if we all talk at once.’ This same voice then continued. ‘I don’t know about the others in other cages, but we’re Spartans, taken prisoner after the conquest battle on Euboea.’  
Alexios frowned. ‘That was years ago. You’ve been here that long?’  
He sounded grim. ‘It’s been a long time.’  
‘How many of you are there?’  
‘Eight in here - there used to be twelve. We haven’t been here the whole time though. Sometimes we get shipped elsewhere, to work in the mines, but we always end up back here.’  
Alexios sat back on his heels, considering this. ‘Alright,’ he said after a moment. ‘I'll see about getting you out.’  
There was a sad shake of the head - he heard it more than saw it. ‘It’s not possible. There are elite guards encamped in the chamber above, and you must’ve seen them outside the stronghold, watching all the escape routes. We all saw what happened to the last man who made a run for it. He was cut to ribbons right in front of us - an example, they said.’  
Alexios set his jaw. ‘We’ll see. You haven’t seen a new addition since yesterday? A Spartan, spitting fury, as I heard it.’  
‘No, but unwilling slaves are taken into the stronghold first. They’re broken there.’  
‘Do you know where in the stronghold exactly?’ Alexios felt fear wash over him again. He couldn’t bear to think of what that would mean. He could only hope that Demosthenes would prove to be a man of his word, and that Thaletas was being treated as a special case - it was a faint hope though.  
‘On the terrace above the gate. The larger building, usually.’  
‘Thank you,’ he said, and slipped along the row.  
He took his time, stopping at each cage, and asking the same questions at each. By the time he had stopped at them all, he calculated that there was over seventy men here, almost all of them Spartans, taken prisoner from camps, battles and snatched off the road. One man had been there on and off since the opening of hostilities thirteen years earlier.  
Alexios reached the further end of the cavern, where the tunnel led sharply upwards to the chamber above. He could see the light of fires and hear the distant murmur of the guards’ voices.  
He turned back then and retraced his steps past the cages and upwards to the cave mouth that gave out onto the interior of the stronghold.  
He slipped out into the fresh air, and breathed deeply, grateful to escape the foul fug below. It would have to wait, but one way or another, he was determined to get these men out of there; grimly, he added, even if that meant he had to be responsible for breaking the peace single-handedly by doing it.  
First, though, he must find Thaletas.  
He considered how to approach the two buildings the prisoner had mentioned on the terrace above the main gate. The small shrine, due to its proximity to the actual gate itself, must surely serve as a kind of guard post, but it was considerably closer, and he may as well check it first, leaving the larger building, which was lit up by many torches and was easily visible from many places, until last.  
He slipped across a rope onto the roof of the shrine where he crouched unseen. The elite guards below - three of them - were gathered around a fire trading war stories - spurious war stories, he corrected. One claimed to have killed twenty Spartans in one battle; another, thirty.  
Alexios rolled his eyes. He didn’t know how they could bear to spend hours of their lives talking such bullshit. He could never have been a soldier. He had no tolerance for it.  
After a short pause, one of them said, ‘Shall we give the General another taste of Athenian hospitality?’  
A second guard said, ‘We have to be careful. You know the orders.’  
A third one hawked and spat. ‘Orders! I don’t think they’d care if we slipped with the blade. That dog is our enemy. He deserves to die.’  
‘Yes,’ the second said patiently, ‘but you heard what the polemarch said. This one has friends.’  
The third one spat again, eliciting a complaint from the first, which was ignored. ‘We’re supposed to be afraid of some shit eating sellsword? Who even knows who the Eagle bearer is these days? He’s been retired for years, from what I hear. Went back to Sparta, dragged by his mater’s apron strings.’  
The second one said flatly, ‘Clearly you’ve never been on the battlefield with him.’  
The third one scoffed. ‘I’ve faced a dozen mercenaries before; they’re just men, like the rest of us.’  
‘No,’ said the second one. ‘He’s not. He killed more than sixty men at one battle. I saw the carnage myself. There was fire everywhere. It was like...’ he paused, lost for the right words. The first one supplied, ‘The pits of Hades?’ which the second one agreed would about cover it.  
The third one grumbled, ‘Well, I’m turning in if there’s no more fun to be had tonight.’  
Alexios heard them say goodnight, and the third guard ambled off up the stairs.  
A moment later, the first one said, ‘Now he’s gone, shall we give the General some water?’  
‘Yes,’ the second one said. ‘He was in a bad way when they delivered him. It’s all well and good ordering us to keep him alive, but they could’ve at least brought him here with more than a shred of life left to him.’  
Alexios heard water scooped into a beaker from a bucket or barrel, and then the door of the shrine below him was opened with a grating of hinges.  
‘Water,’ the guard said tentatively, but there was no response.  
Alexios took his chance. He dropped onto the second guard, who had remained beside the fire, and knocked him out cold. The guard in the shrine he knocked unconscious before he could turn around.  
It was the work of a moment to carry both guards into the shrine, then carefully pick up Thaletas and carry him out into the low bushes behind the building. He couldn’t tell if he was dead or alive, he was so totally limp.  
He didn’t waste time in hesitation – he had no wish to hasten the grave, for either himself or his love; he would carry Thaletas all the way to the top of the stronghold, and over the wall there. It was the only way he could possibly get away unseen.  
He was still careful though, creeping slowly with Thaletas over his shoulders. Several times he narrowly avoided being seen, twice he had to knock guards out to get past them, but as dawn was beginning to tint the sky pink, he finally jumped over the wall, and emerged onto the side of the mountain. All was quiet in the stronghold below, but if it was anything like other military encampments, the watch would switch at dawn. The two guards he had knocked out on the ramparts, and then the two in the shrine, would be found. He was running out of time.  
He whistled for Phobos, and carefully heaved Thaletas onto the saddle, then mounted up behind. He deliberately didn’t look at the extent of Thaletas’ injuries in the growing light; but even so, he could feel a bloody wet patch at the nape of his neck which terrified him.  
He rode like the hounds of Hades were on his tail, and reached Mikkos’ house before the sun had risen, and roused Barnabas from his bed. ‘We have to go - now.’  
The captain was quick on the uptake, despite the strong scent of wine about him. ‘The crew are all there. But... What shall we do about Alcinous?’  
Alexios shook his head. ‘Bring him with us. I’ll talk to him on the ship.’  
Mikkos had emerged blurrily from upstairs, and asked what was going on.  
'We have to go. Fetch Alcinous from upstairs and send him to the ship immediately,' Barnabas barked, and Mikkos raced upstairs.  
Meanwhile, Alexios and Barnabas went outside together, and Barnabas saw Thaletas for the first time. He cried out in alarm, ‘By the gods! He’s more dead than alive!’  
Alexios nodded grimly as they hustled down to the ship. ‘I only know one person who might be willing to help us. Set a course for Lokris. I’ll take him to the Chora of Delphi.’


	9. Snatched Back From the Darkness

Thaletas was vaguely aware that it was dark; nighttime perhaps... though strangely, it seemed to have been night for an exceptionally long time.  
He was confused for a moment, but then the thought drifted away...  
He was floating in silence; it was quite a pleasant sensation, to be weightless, unattached to anything, wrapped in a pervading warmth.  
But then he’d seen something, in the far distance. A beacon, he’d thought at first... or a cave?  
Yes, that’s what it was. A cave with a fire burning brightly inside. He knew that Alexios would be there, waiting for him. He smiled in a disembodied way. Alexios, his love, sprinkling flowers, humming the tune about the warmth of home.  
He was just wondering how he could get there, not having a body just then, when something odd happened: There was a warm, soft pressure against his forehead, unexpected. It was a hand, he was fairly certain, pressed against his skin.  
Then there was a voice, a low, gentle voice he didn’t recognise, to match the warm soft hand. ‘I think he’s coming around, Alexios.’  
There was another sound - a scrape of stool legs on stone flooring, and then there was a hand grasping Thaleta’s hand which until then, he’d forgotten he had. The other hand enclosed his, rough with callouses.  
He tried to speak.  
Alexios.  
No, he hadn’t said that, he’d only thought it. With a feeling like he was trying to reach the surface of a lake from a great depth, but couldn’t, he tried again.  
Alexios!  
He felt like he was yelling, but he knew it was still in his head. One more try.  
‘Alexios,’ he finally managed to say, little more than a raspy whisper.  
‘I’m here,’ the beloved voice said, sounding unusually emotional.  
‘It’s alright, Thaletas.’ The gentle voice again. ‘Just take it slowly. You’ve been unconscious for a long time.’  
He frowned - that felt strange, and made his head hurt. He stopped. ‘How long?’ he whispered.  
‘Eight days,’ Alexios said, his voice still not quite right. He cleared his throat. ‘You were beaten, badly.’  
He started to remember then, and groaned. ‘The Athenians.’  
‘Shh’, the gentle voice said again. ‘It’s alright. Take your time. Are you in any pain?’  
He considered this. ‘No. I can’t feel anything much.’  
‘That’s what we want. Sleep now,’ the soft voice said.  
Thaletas sighed, and stopped struggling against the darkness. 

Alexios released Thaletas’ hand so that he could tuck it tenderly under the blanket. He sighed heavily. ‘You’re sure he’ll be alright?’  
Lykaon sighed. ‘There are no promises, Alexios, but I have done everything I can for him. It is a good sign that he’s coherent. Sometimes with blows to the head...’  
Alexios sat back on his stool. ‘I know.’ He looked down at Thaletas for a long moment before he said, ‘I can’t thank you enough, for taking us in like this.’  
Lykaon smiled, his pure, sweet smile that Alexios had always found so comforting - after he had got over his mild case of pining years earlier. He could now appreciate the doctor for who he was: in a world full of bullies and cruelty, he knew that in this corner of Phokis, he could always find at least one truly good soul.  
The doctor said, ‘I couldn’t turn away the man who guided me with a sure hand from the path of destruction. I owe you my sanity, misthios. A debt I do not think I will ever truly repay.’ Their eyes met for a moment, and it was Alexios that looked away. Lykaon continued, ‘Now - you should rest yourself. I’ll be outside - it’s my clinic day, and my patients are lined up down the road; though I suspect most of them will want gossip, rather than treatment. It always creates a stir when the Eagle Bearer returns.’ He smiled and stood, going outside. 

Alexios closed his eyes and ran his hands over his face. He’d slept only fitfully since they’d arrived in Phokis six days earlier; and the two days before that had been a mad rush - sailing and rowing with all speed to the coast, then riding hard overland to reach the Chora of Delphi. He’d expected at every moment to discover that Thaletas had expired where he cradled him against his chest. It had been in some small measure comforting to hold him there, though it had caused both his arms to ache ever since.  
He was embarrassed to remember he’d talked to Thaletas the whole way as though everything was normal; he put it down to being delirious with fear and exhaustion, and a pressing feeling of guilt. It had been Thaletas’ first job. He should have been there with him.

He’d all but fallen into Lykaon’s house late at night - he hadn’t knocked, just barged in. The doctor had been very calm - it clearly wasn’t the first time he’d been roused from his bed in such a rough fashion. He’d got up immediately, dressed Thaletas’ wounds, given him a tincture that would ease the pain, and then told Alexios there was nothing to do but leave it in the hands of the gods, before dosing Alexios himself with a strong sleeping draft that had felled him until the middle of the following day. He’d even given up his own bed to them both, going to sleep somewhere else - though he didn’t say where, just pointed vaguely; all the information needed, Alexios thought. He could go and shout in that direction if he needed Lykaon, he supposed with a wry smile. The Chora was very small.  
He settled himself more comfortably, propped against the wall, and without intending to, he dozed off.

It was growing dark when he woke, and after he had stretched the crick out of his neck, he noticed that Thaletas had his eyes open. He was looking at the ceiling, the underside of the reed roof, the joists showing, looking slightly puzzled.  
Alexios affected humour to cover the slight shake of relief in his voice. ‘So - you’ve decided not to go to Hades after all?’  
Their eyes met for a long moment, one of those warm, loving gazes that says far more than any words could, before Thaletas replied, ‘You can’t get rid of me that easily. Besides, you’re much better looking than Hades could ever be.’ Then he frowned slightly. ‘Where are we?’  
‘The Chora of Delphi, in Phokis.’  
He was about to ask why there when the door opened, and Lykaon came into the room. Alexios was holding Thaletas’ hand, and he smiled with relief up at the doctor.  
Lykaon came over to the bedside, and smiled at Thaletas. ‘It’s good to meet you at last.’  
Thaletas looked up into the handsome face, the gentle eyes, and the kind smile, and he couldn’t help but smile back. ‘You are?’  
‘Lykaon. I’m an old friend of Alexios’.’  
Thaletas said, ‘I heard your voice, while I was in the darkness. It gave me comfort.’  
A slight blush mounted his cheeks - he was really charming. ‘I’m glad I could help. You are in no pain?’  
‘I ache, everywhere, but nothing worse than the morning after a battle.’  
‘You took a nasty blow to the head. That concerned me most, but it is healing well. You’re healing well.’ He stood, and smiled at Alexios. ‘You know where to find me if I’m needed.’  
Alexios nodded with a smile.  
After he’d left the room, Thaletas looked at Alexis with one raised brow. Wryly, he said, ‘You would know the best looking doctor in the whole Greek world. Alexios - you are positively shameless!’  
Alexios grinned and without preamble, kissed Thaletas gently but urgently, his hand carefully cupping his cheek which was purple with bruises. He broke the kiss, and buried his face in the undamaged shoulder. ‘Gods, Thaletas. I thought I’d lost you. I’ve never prayed so fervently in my life.’  
Thaletas felt tears on the flesh of his shoulder. Unable to use his other arm, which was tied in a splint and was absolutely rigid, even had its corresponding shoulder not been the colour of plums and too painful to move - all he could do was rest his forehead against the top of Alexios’ head.  
‘I guess I’m not a great mercenary after all,’ he said, trying to be humorous but sounding so vulnerable, it hurt Alexios to hear. ‘Getting beaten half to death on my first day. Doesn’t bode well.’  
Alexios lifted his head, all traces of his tears surreptitiously wiped away, unseen. ‘We’ve all made mistakes, trust me. Tell me what happened?’  
Thaletas grimaced slightly. ‘There’s not much to tell. I found a way into the camp, but they must’ve seen me coming. There was a whole pack of them, all dressed in dark tunics. I took out a few of them, but they just kept appearing. I should have run while I had the chance - I see that now - but...’ he grimaced again. ‘I was thinking like a Spartan.’ He sighed. ‘They bundled me onto their boat and sailed me back to Lemnos. They’d given me a good thumping in the camp, but that was nothing to what they did once they had me in the cave.’ Something in his face hardened then. ‘I’ll remember their faces. I’ll have my revenge.’  
Alexios nodded, but in an attempt to reassure him, said, ‘It was a trap. It’s that contract from Athens come back to haunt me.’ He told him about Demosthenes’ attempt at forcing his hand then, and the rescue from the stronghold, followed by the crazy dash to Phokis.  
Thaletas frowned. ‘Something has to be done about this Athenian.’  
‘Yes, but I don’t know what. If we kill him, another will take his place, and I’ll be worse off - wanted for the murder of the most popular general in the city.’  
Thaletas chewed his lip in thought, before saying, ‘We’ll come up with an answer.’  
Alexios smiled. ‘One thing working in our favour - we’ll have plenty of time to mull it over while you recover.’  
Thaletas smiled absently. After a moment, he said, ‘About the prisoners on Lemnos - I think you should go back to Sparta. Take the information to King Archidemos. You can’t do this alone, and he’s the only one who might be willing to provide you with help.’  
Alexios considered this with a frown. ‘I don’t think he will want to do anything to rupture the peace.’  
Thaletas slowly shook his head. ‘Peace! This is no peace. I was beaten because I was a Spartan. Then there’s the fact that you’re being driven to assassinate a Krypteia - that’s not the act of a nation seeking to uphold a treaty.’  
Alexios said slowly, ‘I don’t think I can tell Archidemos that. There will be questions about why Demosthenes came to me, why I was in Athens, why he’s insistent I take the contract. That conversation cannot end well.’  
Thaletas laid back, and winced as he adjusted his broken arm. ‘Well - perhaps don’t give too many details. I doubt he will want them. He’ll be as outraged as we are about those prisoners, I’m sure of it.’  
Alexios sighed. ‘Lysander once boasted to me that he’d executed three thousand prisoners, claiming that the Athenians would do the same. Now we see he’s wrong.’  
Thaletas shrugged. ‘Death by slave labour is still an execution, Alexios, just a slower, crueller kind.’  
Alexios seemed not to be listening; a moment later he made a decision and stood. ‘Alright. I’ll go to Sparta. We’ll see what Archidemos says about it.’  
‘Now?’  
‘Why wait?’  
Thaletas raised his eyebrows and grinned.  
Alexios slowly grinned back, but said, ‘I’ve seen the extent of those bruises. I’m afraid to touch you.’  
Thaletas said, ‘Well, you could at least lay beside me? Touching optional.’  
Alexios nodded, still smiling, and lowered himself onto the bed, helping Thaletas to shuffle over, apologising for every wince and smothered groan.  
At last they were both in the bed, Alexios on his side, head propped up on one arm. He said softly, ‘While I was bringing you here, I asked myself what I would do if you died. How I could ever forgive myself...’ he leant his head down, kissing Thaletas’ good shoulder.  
‘What did you decide?’ He asked, a smile playing on his lips.  
Alexios shook his head, but smiled. ‘I decided there was only one choice - I’d have to be the first to go.’  
Thaletas chuckled. With his eyes full of love, his voice thick with emotion, he said, ‘I’d always find you, even if you were in Tartaros.’  
Returning his gaze, Alexios felt himself responding to their nearness. He kissed him warmly, allowing the kiss to say everything he had no words for, then said huskily, ‘Perhaps laying beside you was a bad idea.’  
Thaletas chuckled. ‘Perhaps you could consider it an exercise in the Spartan skill of self-denial?’  
Alexios growled. His hand had gently wandered downwards. ‘There’s only one Spartan here and he better be good at not making any sudden moves, no matter the provocation.’  
Thaletas’ eyes gleamed. ‘Try me.’


	10. An Interview with Archidemos

Alexios left the Chora of Delphi before dawn on what promised to be a warm, clear day. Thaletas had watched him close the door of Lykaon’s cottage with mixed feelings, though mostly regret that he couldn’t go with him.  
He closed his eyes and tried to sleep again, but found himself thinking about the night before.  
He’d woken trying to roll onto his side, his body in sleep forgetting his condition. The pain had throbbed through his arm, making him groan quietly.  
‘Are you alright?’ Alexios had asked with concern.  
‘Yes,’ he’d said through gritted teeth.  
‘Should I fetch Lykaon?’  
‘No,’ he said, ‘Let the poor man sleep.’  
When the pain had eased a little, Thaletas looked over at Alexios in the lamplight and asked, ‘Have you slept tonight?’ The pain made him sound unusually terse.  
Alexios had replied, ‘No. I’ve been thinking about those men on Lemnos, and how to get them out.’ He frowned slightly. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to find Lykaon?’  
‘I’m sure,’ Thaletas had said, giving him his best attempt at a reassuring smile. ‘Have you come up with an answer?’  
‘No,’ he had said, sympathy in his face, ‘but I will have, by the time I reach Sparta.’ He’d reached out then, gently cupping Thaletas’ cheek in his rough, calloused hand, and running a thumb along his cheekbone, his face softening. ‘I don’t want to leave you, not like this. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I expect I’ll go straight to Lemnos from Sparta - with or without the king’s approval - and who knows what will happen there.’  
Thaletas said firmly, ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be right here when you get back.’ He was pleased to note he at least sounded supremely confident.  
Alexios had kissed Thaletas then, sweetly and gently, and said no more about it; but Thaletas had seen that he took his worry with him when he left the cottage.

Lykaon came in the middle of the morning to check on Thaletas.  
As he sat beside the bed to check Thaletas’ head, the Spartan took the opportunity to ask, ‘I think you’ve known Alexios for a long time?’  
‘Yes. We first met - oh, it must have been the first year of the war. He had just come back from Megaris, where I suppose you know, he’d been sent to kill his father?’  
Thaletas had not known that, but he said, ‘Ah, yes,’ as if he had. The idea of Alexios killing the Wolf was at once stunning and unthinkable - but he remembered hearing that Nikolaos had disappeared for a time in the first years of the war. He wondered if Alexios had taken the bounty intending to kill him, but had then changed his mind and warned his father, like he had Isadas. It seemed probable.  
Lykaon had continued speaking. ‘He helped me with a rather personal matter, and showed himself to be a wise and kind soul. We’ve been friends since.’  
‘Only friends?’ Thaletas asked with a raised eyebrow.  
Lykaon had finished checking his wound, and their eyes met for a moment. The doctor had coloured slightly. ‘I was...’ he trailed off, trying to think of the right words. ‘I was younger then, and struggling with my destiny. I have always felt called to be a doctor, to help people; but there was a time when I felt very alone in this world - very... uncared for.’ He stood, and began tidying the herbs and other objects on the table nearby. ‘Alexios helped me then, when no one else could, and we...’ He looked back at Thaletas then, ‘I guess you could say we had a moment - a moment that passed.’ He thought for a moment, then smiled warmly at Thaletas. ‘I’m just glad he’s no longer alone. I used to worry about him, his lonely, dangerous life - though I never told him that. I can see that you’re good for him. He’s much changed.’  
Thaletas smiled at this. ‘Is he?’  
The doctor had returned to the bed with a bowl of herbs, and set about cleaning and dressing some of Thaletas’ minor wounds. He closed his eyes in discomfort as Lykaon said, ‘I’ve never seen him so happy as he had been since you came back to us.’ He was quiet for a moment, concentrating on what he was doing, then hazarded, ‘I think you must be something special, to keep up with him. I had often thought that perhaps no one ever could. I’m glad to be wrong.’  
Thaletas looked at him with one eye, and said wryly, ‘I think my current condition says otherwise.’  
Lykaon raised an eyebrow. ‘You suppose Alexios was never beaten half to death?’  
Thaletas shook his head with a smile. ‘I really can’t imagine it.’  
Lykaon smiled. ‘Around the time that I met Alexios, he was pursuing a local man named Elpinor, a member of that hideous cult that was corrupting the Pythia. Alexios had tracked him to a cave in the Valley of the Snake, where he was holed up with a mass of armed, highly trained guards.’ He carefully rolled Thaletas onto his side to dress the wounds on his back before he continued. ‘The first time Alexios attempted to assassinate him, he was very nearly killed. The gods only know how he got back here - hanging off his horse, covered in his own blood.’ He shook his head. ‘He was here for months, slowly regaining his strength, and confidence. He even considered going back to Kephalonia - though I don't know how serious he was about that.’  
Thaletas was surprised. He had somehow always thought of Alexios as impervious to harm, totally unstoppable. The idea that he had come so close to death was almost unthinkable. Perhaps the talk in the camps had got to him after all, Thaletas thought, and he really had begun to think of him as a demi-god. He chuckled. ‘He must have been a terrible patient.’  
Lykaon laughed his mild laugh. ‘He certainly found resting difficult. I lost count of how many times he reopened a particularly nasty cut on his left thigh.’  
Thaletas had seen the scar, which was about eight inches long, red and as gnarled as tree bark. Alexios had told him he’d got it in Phokis, but given no further details; Thaletas had sensed there was more to the story, but hadn’t pressed for details. He said, ‘Then I should thank you twice - not only for helping me now, but for saving Alexios then. My life would be very different if you hadn’t.’  
Lykaon rolled Thaletas back over, and then stood, returning the bowl to the table. For a moment, Thaletas thought he wasn’t going to respond, but then he said, ‘I saw Socrates speak at Kirrha once, and I particularly recall one thing he said; it was something like - every action creates consequences, the end of which we cannot foresee. I think about that often - it’s particularly true of a doctor’s work. We keep people alive, and who knows what they will do in the world.’ Then he glanced at Thaletas with a smile. ‘You’re welcome, anyway. I’m glad I could bring some happiness into the world.’

After he had left again, Thaletas thought for a long time about everything he’d said, but most of all, he pondered how different things could have been.  
If Alexios had died in the first year of the war, they’d never have met. He’d have stayed with Kyra, and who knows how that might have played out? The rebellion would probably have killed them both, he thought grimly; after all, it had been Alexios alone who’d turned their fortunes. Even Kyra had grudgingly acknowledged that.  
He’d never have been beaten near to death on Lemnos though, he thought with dry humour. But he wouldn’t have seen the red sunset over Hydrea either; or the rich pinks, purples and golds of dawn over the ocean; nor known dizzying passion in a hut in the forests of Chios. He wouldn’t have known love - not real love, not like this.  
Love made it all worthwhile, he thought, then smiled to himself. He really was getting soft!

Alexios reached Sparta in the last golden rays of a windy afternoon. He rode towards the House of Leonidas, leaving Phobos at the stables and jogging up to the house. The door was open, letting in the cool breeze. Nikolaos was seated on a stool by the front door, cleaning his armour. He looked up, and smiled gently.  
‘Alexios. It’s good to see you.’  
‘Pater. How was the training?’ He was referring to the boys Nikolaos had been teaching in the mountains when he’d left Sparta in the winter - teaching them endurance, in theory.  
He shook his head in that way that elders do. ‘The boys these days aren’t as they used to be. Most carried two cloaks - that’s what Sparta had become.’  
Alexios smothered a smile. ‘Mater’s inside?’  
Nikolaos nodded. ‘She and some young woman she’s taken under her wing are preparing the meal.’  
Alexios frowned. ‘Young woman?’  
‘She comes from Mesoa. Go and say hello.’ He stood, placing the armour down inside the door. ‘I’m due at the mess. I’ll be back soon.’  
Alexios nodded and turned inside.  
Myrrine was leaning over the fire, stirring a cauldron; beside her, the young woman sat, her back to the door. His mater, seeing him enter the room, stood at once. ‘My lamb! I’m glad to see you home.’ They rested their foreheads against one another’s in greeting, before Myrrine said, ‘This is Elene. She has been helping me around the house.’ She glanced towards the doorway, and seeing Nikolaos had gone, added, ‘I’m also teaching her to fight. Nikolaos doesn't approve.’  
Alexios smiled, but as the young woman looked up at him, the smile faded. He had met her before, he realised - when she had hired him to kill Isadas. ‘We’ve already met - the autumn before last.’  
She smiled smugly. ‘Yes - you were seeking out Isadas, and I gave you information.’ There was a glitter in her eye that said she hadn’t forgotten the terms under which he had got that information from her.  
Myrrine had stilled, sensing something unspoken between them. ‘You never did say why you were looking for him, Alexios?’  
Alexios was irritated that the situation had been raised again. He wanted to forget about it. ‘I’d heard there was a large bounty placed on his head in Athens. I was looking for him so that I could warn him.' For Myrrine's benefit, he said, 'He’s Thaletas’ brother, you know.’  
Elene scowled. ‘You know Thaletas?’  
Coolly, he said, ‘Yes. He’s one of my closest friends. By the way, your information was flawed - useless, in fact.’ He gave her a look that dared her to say anything more about it. She looked away, but not before he saw resentment written across her face.  
‘How is Thaletas?’ Myrrine asked, serving up plates of stew.  
‘Recovering,’ he said.  
Myrrine looked up sharply. ‘He’s been injured?’  
‘He has, badly; but he’s recovering well. I left him in Phokis with Lykaon.’  
Myrrine turned back to the stew. ‘You should have brought him back to Sparta.’  
He shook his head. ‘He isn’t fit to travel, and I urgently need to speak with Archidemos.’  
He could see that she was curious, but she was also discrete. She merely nodded, and they settled down to eat.

When the meal was over Elene went home, to Alexios’ relief. She had said little to him during the meal, but he could see that she now considered him an enemy. Just what he needed, Alexios thought.  
He and Myrrine went out into the adjoining garden, where a stone bench had been placed, looking out over the city below.  
‘I get the feeling there’s more to your previous meeting with Elene than you’re saying.’  
‘There is,’ Alexios said. ‘She wanted me to kill Isadas in return for the information about his whereabouts - they were lovers, until he ended it. What I said was true - her information was wrong.’  
Myrrine frowned. ‘You had no intention of killing him, yet you told her you would?’  
‘I did.’ He shrugged, uncomfortable with the lie. ‘Not entirely honourable - I know; but it was important that I warn him about the bounty, and he survived - that’s what matters.’  
She was quiet for a long moment before she said, ‘What is it that you wish to speak to Archidemos about?’  
Alexios told her about the prisoners on Lemnos. ‘Thaletas suggested I bring it to Archidemos, as I can't do this alone. I agreed. What do you think?’  
She took her time thinking it over before she said, ‘I don’t know. I expect he will take it to the council.’  
‘It’s a shame Brasidas isn’t here. I could use his counsel,’ he said quietly, looking out into the quiet night, lit by starlight. ‘I miss him most when I’m here in Sparta.’  
Myrrine sighed. ‘The city is different without him.’ She patted Alexios’ arm for a moment in sympathy. ‘Since you’ve mentioned him... I know you find it hard to forgive Kassandra for what happened; but you know she wasn’t in control of herself then.’  
Alexios closed his eyes for a moment. ‘I know.’ He thought grimly that knowing didn't help; it didn’t stop him feeling angry and resentful, and not just about Brasidas. Kassandra had a free pass for every terrible thing she’d ever done - though killing Brasidas was, in Alexios’ opinion, the least forgivable of all. When she’d come home, he’d expected that she would express some remorse for that, knowing as she did how he had felt about Brasidas - but she never had; and, he thought unhappily, she probably never would.  
Myrrine sensed his train of thought. ‘She’ll get there, Alexios. You’ll see.’  
‘What are you two talking about?’ They hadn’t heard Nikolaos coming. He'd approached on quiet feet - a habit he had from so many years spent in hostile territory.  
‘Kassandra,’ Alexios said, ‘And Brasidas.’  
Nikolaos looked out over the landscape below. ‘She regrets it, you know.’  
‘Has she said so?’ Alexios asked.  
He shook his head. ‘She doesn’t need to. There’s a reason she avoids you, Alexios. She sees in your eyes that you don’t forgive her - but it isn’t in her nature to admit weakness.’  
Alexios felt himself growing angry. ‘It’s not weakness to admit you’ve done wrong; it’s cowardly not face up to your mistakes!’  
Nikolaos was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, he sounded tired. ‘Sometimes I forget that you weren’t raised as a Spartan. Your years outside Lakonia have made you think differently to me.’  
Myrrine rested a hand on Nikolaos’ arm as Alexios said angrily, ‘Yes, you’re right. I’m not a Spartan. If there was any justice, I suppose, I’d be dead at the bottom of that mountain!’ He regretted the words even as they left his mouth. He really wasn't angry with Nikolaos at all. It was Kassandra he needed to confront; but he wasn't ready to do that yet.  
Nikolaos patted Myrrine’s hand. When he spoke, his voice hadn’t changed. ‘I’m glad you aren’t, Alexios; whatever you might think.’  
Alexios shook his head, and after a moment of strained silence, Myrrine said, ‘Nikolaos - perhaps you could go with Alexios to Archidemos tomorrow.’  
‘You’ve come to see the king?’ Nikolaos asked, his eyebrows raised. ‘Why?’  
Alexios put his temper behind him with relief, and told his pater about Lemnos. When he'd finished, Myrrine asked, ‘What do you think Archidemos will say?’  
Nikolaos pondered this for a moment. ‘He’ll take it to the council, I think. What will they say?’ He paused, still thinking, before shrugging lightly. ‘I guess we’ll have to wait and see.’

The following day, Alexios presented himself in the throne room with Nikolaos by his side. It was strange to have his father with him, but it felt right somehow. They might not agree on everything, but he still respected him. At least on better days, Alexios could see that even the decision to throw him off the mountain had had its own twisted logic. He shouldn't have killed the elder - there had to be a punishment for such behaviour. Yes - he was able to respect the Wolf's moral fortitude, without appreciating what that had led him to do.  
It was a small gathering in the throne room; just two ephors and Archidemos.  
‘What is it that you want?’ Archidemos demanded. He’d always been very brusque with Alexios, but especially so since the murder of Pausanias.  
It was fear, Alexios realised. The assassination had been messy - much messier than he had intended it to be. Pausanias had been riding for Gytheion, surrounded by his personal clique of hoplites and strategoi. Alexios had been spotted, and a melee ensued, during which he had been forced to murder nine, very highly trained men, before he could get to Pausanias. Alexios was aware that people whispered about that event all over Lakonia, though for most people, the assassination took the form of unsubstantiated rumour; for Archidemos though, who knew it to be true, it was different. He treated Alexios with a mixture of awe and distaste.  
‘My king. I have discovered a large group of Spartan prisoners being held on Lemnos. I believe there is a way to free them, but I cannot do so alone, and I hoped that you and our people may be willing to provide help.’  
Archidemos eyed him. ‘You said a large group. How many?’  
‘More than seventy.’  
‘Seventy!’ he said, ‘Taken from where?’  
‘Multiple battlefields, roads, camps.’ He listed off the details he had learnt from the prisoners. Archidemos began pacing as he talked, rubbing his chin.  
When Alexios had finished speaking, one of the ephors stepped forward. ‘You say you believe there’s a way to free them. Tell us what you plan to do.’  
Alexios outlined what he thought might work. He needed at least eight or nine discreet, skilled men. More, if that were possible.  
Archidemos looked to Nikolaos. ‘What do you think, General?’  
‘I would be wary of breaching the peace, of course; but I do not think we can leave the men there. If Alexios is right, and such a small number of men can do this, then I think it should be done.’  
Archidemos and the ephors looked at one another, and then the king said, ‘Leave us to consult with the council. We’ll let you know the outcome. 

As Alexios and Nikolaos walked back towards home, Nikolaos said, ‘I think they will approve action.’  
Alexios glanced at him in surprise. ‘You do?’  
He nodded. ‘He would not have asked my opinion if he was decided against it.’  
Alexios nodded. ‘Let’s hope so.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historically speaking, Archidemos died in 426BC, and was replaced as king by his son, Agis. However, the game glosses over this, so I have as well.


	11. Brothers

The days dragged by for Thaletas, lying flat on his back for the sake of his arm and shoulder, staring at the ceiling. He noticed the days growing noticeably warmer; before long, the dry and dusty days of late summer would have arrived. Lykaon began propping the door open during the day, on the off chance that if there were some slight breeze, it might come through the door; though more frequently, it was the inquisitive faces of the doctor’s patients that came in, as they passed to and from his surgery. Most of them acted as though they had known each other for years.  
At first, it had been a strange experience; Sparta wasn’t like that; but he soon became thankful of anything that broke up the monotony of his days, and began to know them by name.  
It had been eight days since Alexios had left the Chora when Thaletas was roused from a bored stupor by an elderly man named Hesperos.  
‘How are you, young man?’ he asked, standing propped against one side of the doorway.  
‘Getting better, I think,’ he said with a smile. ‘As you see – the doctor has allowed me to sit up now, though he tells me I am absolutely forbidden to move my arm at all. He says another few days though, and the swelling of the shoulder joint will have receded enough for me to begin exercising my arm again. It will take some time to regain the strength in it.’ He smiled wryly as he added, ‘But I told him: A weak arm will be a fine complement to my limp.’  
Hesperos chuckled. 'None of us reach old age without scars from our youth.' He rubbed at one eye, before saying, ‘I wondered if you might like some scrolls to read, to pass the time? I have three, left behind by my son. I can’t read, so they’re of no use to me.’  
Thaletas wasn’t a reader in the usual course of things. It had always been considered an Athenian pursuit back in Sparta, unless it was orders or a scout report one was reading; but under the circumstances, he was willing to try anything to alleviate the boredom. ‘That would be very kind, thank you.’  
Hesperos smiled, and waved a hand. ‘It’s nothing. I’ll send the girl over with them for you.’

The scrolls, when they arrived, were worn and salt-stained. Thaletas wondered where they had come from, but perhaps didn’t really want to know. There were rumours that Hesperos’ son had been a pirate; and if he knew that, Thaletas thought with a grin, then everyone in the Chora must. Small villages really didn't allow secrets.  
On closer inspection, Thaletas was pleased to discover they were a selection of books from the Iliad – numbers sixteen, eighteen and twenty-three. He had heard the epic performed - everyone in Sparta had. Menelaus had been a Spartan, and Helen the queen, the most beautiful of women, was his wife. His childhood had been filled with the telling and retelling of the story.  
He began with book sixteen, but after a short while, he became uncomfortably aware that what he was reading was making him think about his own failures in recent days. There were some parallels. Patroclus assuming Achilles’ armour, just as he had done; but being unable to match up to the skill level needed, got himself killed…  
After a time, he dropped the scroll into his lap, unable to read further.  
Thaletas had, as a young boy, dreamt of being Achilles. Even after he went to the agoge, he and his friends had played out the fight between Achilles and Hector many times during training. Thaletas had always been Achilles, or refused to play. He always won too. There was something about picking up a spear which had transformed him in his own mind from an undersized, rather gentle boy, into a fierce fighter who would stop at nothing to beat 'Hector' down. That fierceness had seen him picked out as a group leader; but he’d always known that it was only the spear that made him that way.  
In more recent years, he had come to recognise that the soft and gentle boy he had been had not gone away, only been hidden behind the metaphorical armour he’d assumed. He had always been Patroclus, playing at being Achilles, and he had fooled everyone - even himself - until Delos, until Alexios. He couldn't say how it was that Alexios had seen straight through him, but he had.  
He looked over to where the armour, the very same that had been worn by Achilles and Patroclus, leant against the wall. It gleamed at him in the light coming in at the door. He wondered if he could ever trust himself to wear it again - to put on that fierce version of himself which had got him into so much trouble already.  
He turned away from the armour and closed his eyes. He knew he was letting his circumstances get to him. He missed Alexios; he missed being able to move; he missed knowing what he was going to do next. For a moment, he even missed being in Sparta, with the army. He’d never had to think about what came next then; someone would always tell him...  
He snorted at himself. What was he thinking?  
He’d hated that. Led by incompetent or impatient polemarches, fighting battles which even a blind man could see they could not win; being sent to places to bully and suppress the people, even when he thought they were right to have risen up; watching his friends die in front of his eyes… He shook his head. And for what? For the island or region to be won all over again by Athens a month or two later. All the blood and sweat and loss - for nothing.  
This was a turning point for him. For the first time, he really saw that Alexios’ joke about his not wanting to be a Spartan anymore was the truth. He really didn’t.  
If nothing else had made him realise this, the knowledge that it was his training that had got him beaten on Lemnos would have done it. He was ashamed of himself; not for being beaten in and of itself, but for being too stubborn to back down. If he’d been thinking like the mercenary he now was, he’d have retreated. It had only been his stupid pride - the belief that a Spartan never loses, as one of his commanders had used to say – that had made him press a hopeless situation.  
He set his jaw. He would not give up on his chosen path, nor go running back to Sparta just because things had gone wrong. He would learn from his mistakes, and move forward.

The sun had gone down, and the door had been closed when he was woken from a doze by a chuckle at his bedside.  
He slowly straightened himself - he’d fallen into the corner, his head at a skewed angle. He opened his eyes, rubbing his face with his good arm. Seated on the stool, he expected to see Lykaon, but someone else was there.  
Thaletas broke into a happy smile. ‘Isadas! What are you doing here? How did you find me?’  
His brother grinned. ‘I wouldn’t be much of a Krypteia if I couldn’t find my own little brother, now would I?’  
Thaletas grinned back, fully awake now. ‘I guess not. Where have you come from?’  
‘Sparta. I’m being sent to one of the islands on a mission for the king; but when I heard you were in bad shape in Phokis, and I had a few days to spare, I took a detour.’ He gripped his brother’s hand by way of greeting, since an embrace was out of the question. ‘I’ve brought wine. Here.’ He poured some into a pair of beakers he took from the saddle bags at his feet, and mixed in some water.  
Thaletas took a mouthful, and narrowed his eyes slightly. ‘So, you spoke to Alexios, then?’  
Isadas shrugged lightly, but then winked as he said, ‘It’s all top secret, need to know stuff.’  
Thaletas laughed. As children, while Thaletas had been playing at Achilles, Isadas had always played at being a spy. He’d excelled at finding out secrets and could be counted on to call everything 'top secret', even if it was just what he was planning to do that afternoon. Unless, of course, it embarrassed his little brother.  
Thaletas said, ‘Come on! I’ve been stuck in this room for days, wondering what's going on. He met with Archidemos?’  
Isadas grinned. ‘Alright, alright! I’ll tell you what I know. It was quite by chance that I was back in Sparta, actually. I’ve been in Messenia since early spring.’  
Thaletas knew he would never say what he had been doing there, but everyone knew Sparta desperately wanted control of the region back, and he assumed it was related to that.  
Isadas continued, ‘I'd just returned to the city, and went directly to the throne room to make my report. I was told to wait - a meeting was in progress. I’d normally have come back later, but I loitered instead. I’m glad I did, for what a sight! Out strode our war hero of Megara: the Wolf, noble, severe and dour of face as always; and behind him, in glaring contrast, his son, Alexios the Eagle Bearer, larger than life, in a set of armour that took the breath away. I was struck by the fact that he had a grin on his face, as if he’d had a great time within – which I knew could not be the case, as we all know how Archidemos feels about him.’  
Thaletas smiled at his storytelling. When he was in good humour, Isadas could be amusing. It was just a shame these moments were so rare. Thaletas asked, ‘He was wearing his war hero armour, I suppose? That helmet is just too much.’  
Isadas laughed. ‘He wasn’t wearing the helmet, at least – but he was carrying it under one arm. I suppose you know I’ve seen Alexios myself once?’ Thaletas nodded. ‘Well, that was in near darkness; but I would have recognised him anywhere just from the talk amongst the men. I can see why some believe him to be a demi-god.' He took a sip of wine, looking at his brother narrowly, before continuing. ' “Isadas of Mesoa,” he said to me, “I’m pleased to see you with your head still on your shoulders.” That was daring of him, I thought. In reply, I said, “Alexios of Sparta. I’m pleased to see you in a setting other than my bedroom late at night.” ’  
‘You didn’t!’ Thaletas said, laughing.  
‘I did! You should have seen the astonishment on Nikolaos’ face! Anyway, Alexios laughed broadly, and I heard him explaining to the Wolf as they went away. I went into the throne room then, gave Archidemos my report and he gave me my orders. You can guess what they are, and why I had cause to seek Alexios out. It was at this second meeting that he told me what had happened to you.’ He pursed his lips then, and looked down into his cup for a moment, before he asked, ‘I don’t like to pry little brother, but there is... something serious between the two of you, I think?’ He looked at Thaletas from beneath his brows.  
Thaletas flushed red, but bravely said, ‘Yes, there is.’ He looked at his brother, daring him to say anything against it.  
Isadas nodded half to himself. ‘I thought so. Has he told you the details of what happened in Arkadia?’  
‘He has.’  
‘Well - I knew when he asked if you were still alive then that there must be something between you, but I could hardly ask him to explain. I was just glad to get away with my life.’  
Thaletas wished he could stop himself blushing, his ears were absolutely burning. ‘There was nothing between us then. We had...’ he searched for words, and found himself echoing Lykaon’s expression, ‘We had a moment on Delos, but it passed. We only met again in Sparta last winter.’  
Isadas listened with his head tilted a little to one side. ‘You’ve left Sparta because you wish to continue the relationship?’ When Thaletas nodded, Isadas sighed. ‘Isadora doesn’t know, does she?’  
Thaletas guiltily shook his head. ‘I just couldn’t tell her. She so badly wants me to marry and have sons. Before I left Sparta, I was still convinced I might one day be able to do as she wishes…’ He trailed off, rubbing his face again unhappily. ‘I didn’t want this to happen, you know. After Delos, I still thought that I could do as Sparta requires… But – I have come to see that I can’t – and I won’t.’  
Isadas, seeing that he was growing agitated, grabbed his brother's good hand and squeezed it. ‘You’re my brother, Thaletas. I don’t judge you. Unlike many Spartans, I’ve spent years outside Lakonia, mixing with other peoples. You’re not the first man to feel that way. The only thing I will say is you really must tell Isadora, sooner rather than later. She is still hoping.’  
Thaletas sighed heavily. Isadas patted his hand, before refilling his beaker.  
‘Anyway - that’s enough family talk. Let’s change the subject. I found out some other interesting news from Alexios - Elene has tried to have me killed.’  
‘What?’ Thaletas said, shocked. ‘Why? I thought you two were good friends; at least, you were when we were younger.’  
Isadas looked sheepish. ‘Oh brother, you are so innocent! We were rather more than that.’  
Thaletas stared at him for a moment, then groaned. ‘Isadas, you didn’t!’  
‘Many times, I’m afraid.’ He was grinning, but it faded as he said, ‘I made some rash promises back then, and she hasn’t taken the breaking of them terribly well. She tried to hire Alexios to murder me. He said he would – only because he was already on contract to the Athenians.’ He shook his head, smiling ruefully. ‘It's a good thing you’ve won him over to our side, I must say.’  
Thaletas smiled, but asked, ‘What are you going to do about her?’  
‘I suggested Alexios get rid of her, but he said he doesn’t kill Spartans anymore. Says it upsets his mater. He suggested I take her as a lover again.’ He chuckled. 'An option that might cause more trouble than it's worth, I think.'  
Thaletas smiled absently. ‘I’m surprised she hasn’t been married yet.’ He noticed an odd expression cross his brother’s face. ‘What is it?’  
‘It’s only a rumour, but I heard that Nikolaos has spoken with Elene's father, suggesting an alliance with his family – Alexios or Stentor, the rumours vary. Her family is wealthy enough, and both brothers are of a suitable age to settle down.’  
Thaletas stared at him for a moment, then began to laugh. ‘If true, what a mess that would make! It must be Stentor. Alexios isn’t even voted to a mess. I doubt any self-respecting father would try to tie his daughter to such a man.’  
Isadas smiled. ‘Unless the daughter leaves much to be desired – which, from what I hear, is certainly the case with Elene. She’s notorious for her contrariness and bitter tongue. Plus, Alexios is of the bloodline of Leonidas, unlike Stentor. That means something in Sparta.’  
Thaletas shook his head, smiling. ‘I wish Nikolaos luck if that’s what he intends. He’ll need it!’

Later that night, as Isadas was preparing to leave, Thaletas shyly said, ‘Promise me you’ll look out for Alexios for me?’  
Isadas nodded. ‘Of course, brother; though I don’t think you need to worry. He is more than capable.’  
‘Still – I’m glad you’ll be there with him.’  
They clasped hands, and Isadas said, ‘I promise you, both Alexios and I will see you very soon.’  
When he was gone, Thaletas tried to sleep; but he laid awake for a long time, worrying about all the things that might go wrong.  



	12. Sneaking behind the Defences

The journey back to Lokris from Sparta was irritatingly slow for Alexios. He was used to going at his own speed - which Thaletas affectionately called breakneck - so the dithering along that was involved in travelling with six other men was near intolerable. They were all members of the Krypteia, and all had the attitude to match. They treated Alexios as though they’d rather ditch him along the way, but couldn’t. They didn’t talk to him more than was absolutely necessary, so he was left to his own thoughts for most of the journey, which was a mixed blessing: at least he wasn’t expected to laugh at their stupid jokes, of which they seemed to have an endless supply; but he had plenty of time to worry: firstly, about his plan and whether it would work, and secondly, about Thaletas.  
He sighed. He missed Thaletas more than he had expected he would, and he felt oddly guilty. He really did not like that he had had to leave him behind, though he’d tried to hide his concern from him; he’d looked so broken and weak, vulnerable even. As the days had run away, Alexios began to wonder if he had been premature in leaving him. What if he’d gone into a decline after he left? What if he had already gone down to Hades?  
Not for the first time, he wished he’d gone with Isadas to Phokis. Alexios glanced at his travelling companions, all riding at that moment in silence. He could have met up with this surly bunch at the rendezvous point in Green City - they didn’t want or need him with them; but Nikolaos had insisted he wait until they were ready, giving Alexios time ‘at home,’ and he had reluctantly agreed. He realised now that what Nikolaos had really meant by that was time with Elene.  
He shook his head to himself every time he thought of it. The whole scenario was ludicrous. While Alexios was largely indifferent to her, it was clear that she hated him - and that woman, she really knew how to hate.  
The first time he’d found himself abandoned in a room with her, he’d come to the sudden knowledge of what was going on. He’d been horrified. She’d glared at him, refused to say anything, while he ignored her entirely. Eventually Myrrine had come into the room, all smiles - totally incongruous with the frigidity in the room - and tried unsuccessfully to promote conversation between them. It must have been almost as trying for Myrrine as it was for the both of them.  
Afterwards, he remonstrated with his Mater. She had serenely suggested he should ‘give her a chance, lamb.’  
He’d given her a flat stare. ‘Mater. You know about Thaletas.’  
She’d looked a little confused, and said just what he should have expected her to: ‘What of that? It hardly prohibits you marrying. As long as you’re discreet...’  
He’d been appalled at the idea, but had just looked away, shocked at the strength of his own reaction and unable yet to put the response into words.  
She’d turned to preparing their meal, taking his silence as a good sign. ‘It’s our dearest wish that you might become more a part of the family, and your country. Tying yourself to a good Spartan woman and bringing us grandchildren would do that.’  
She had sounded so reasonable, it infuriated him. He wondered how many times this conversation had happened in Sparta. From what he remembered of the agoge and what went on there, probably a lot. He snapped, ‘Have you had this conversation with Kassandra?’  
She’d looked at him in that way she had which would have made even Scylla retreat back into her horrible cavern. ‘Of course; but your sister’s not at issue here.’  
He’d snorted in irritation, but just to mollify her, said, ‘I’m not saying I’ll never marry at all - but I am saying I am never going to marry that woman. You must see how much she hates me.’  
‘You haven’t even tried talking to her. Perhaps you should.’  
He’d given up trying to persuade her, and instead, had taken Nikolaos aside a few afternoons later.  
‘I know you both mean well, Pater, but you had better get Stentor back here if you want Elene married to a son of yours, as I'm telling you, it won’t be me.’  
Nikolaos had sighed, much more easily persuaded than Myrrine. ‘I see. I won’t try to argue with you - you know your own mind.’  
‘Stentor might even will like her. She has fire.’  
He admitted to himself now that that had been a little cruel - even his broody brother didn’t deserve to spend his life with such a spitfire.  
He wondered if Nikolaos intended to introduce them.... He smiled at the thought of what a courtship that would be, and wished he could be there to witness it, if it happened. Stentor was so determined to be a good son too, Alexios thought the chance of his agreeing to the match, even if she hated him as fiercely as she did Alexios, was quite good. He’d refrained from saying so to Nikolaos though - his pater probably already knew that.  
Alexios’ humour faded, and he sighed. Didn’t his parents realise that by pushing him like this, they only made him want to leave Sparta and never go back? And really, he had never been a good Spartan anyway; the idea that his parents thought, even for a moment, that he might become one at this late date just because he was married was really quite ridiculous.  
Despite that, Alexios had had a moment of uncertainty - not about Elene, but the idea of marrying in general. Would it be so bad to have a wife? Sons? If it made his family happy....  
But it was only for a moment. He absolutely did not want that life: he and Thaletas both married, sneaking around Sparta to meet each other, dodging the judgement of everyone. By Zeus, he wasn’t even willing to think of Thaletas laying with anyone else, male or female, never mind anything else that followed!  
Alexios struggled with the reality that he wasn’t what his family so desperately wanted him to be, but no amount of wishing could change that. For the first time he really understood what Thaletas had been alluding to when he’d spoken of his own sense of failure with Kyra, and his desire to hold onto the old rhythms of his life which Alexios had broken. He wished Thaletas was there with him, so he could tell him that. Gods, he missed him.  
Alexios brought his mind back to the present, noticing ahead the cliffs which obscured the nothing salt town where they would board the Adrestia. The worst of the journey was over, he thought with relief. He told his travelling companions that he would ride ahead to ensure the ship was ready to sail, and would meet them at the dock; then he spurred Phobos on, feeling the wind in his hair as he rode at blessed breakneck speed into the town.

The Krypteia went below decks for the duration of the journey. Though they were in civilian clothing, they were paranoid that they’d be spotted if they remained on the bridge. Alexios didn’t stop them, though he was rather pleased when their leader opened the hatch for the first time and grimaced at the scent from below. A day in that stew would pay them back for their lack of humanity towards him, he thought. Probably twice over.  
Just before they docked at Green City, Alexios quietly said to Barnabas, ‘You’ll need to send someone ahead to make sure Mikkos has somewhere else to be.’  
‘I'll go myself. I’ll take him drinking if I have to.’  
Alexios shook his head. ‘Don’t get too drunk, or I’ll leave you behind when we sail.'  
Barnabas laughed. ‘Have you ever known me to be too drunk to sail?’  
‘Yes! You remember the lotus flower wine? The cyclops pig you wouldn't shut up about?’  
Barnabas had looked slightly abashed. ‘Well, that was the only time; and how was I to know the wine was drugged?’

When they docked at Green City, Isadas was waiting for them with the two additional men he had collected on the way from Phokis.  
‘Have you been waiting long?’ Alexios asked as he took Isadas aside.  
‘No. I only arrived this morning.’  
Once they were out of earshot of the other two, Alexios asked in a low voice, ‘How is he?’  
Isadas smiled. ‘Sitting up. In another day or two he will begin training to rebuild the strength in his damaged arm.’  
Alexios sighed with relief. ‘That's good news. He’s in good spirits?’  
Isadas nodded, and was about to say something when he noticed the group of krypteia leaving the ship and coming towards them, the two who had been waiting with Isadas following them. He rested a hand on Alexios’ arm for a brief moment, hastily saying, ‘Don’t worry,’ before turning to greet them all with warm hand clasps.  
One of them said, ‘We need to talk through the finer points of the plan, misthios.’  
Alexios nodded, and said, ‘We’ll discuss it once we’re out of the city. There’s a house on the road between here and the stronghold we can use. We won’t be observed or overheard there. Isadas, have you arranged the boats to be at the Cryptic Cavern dock? And the crates are there?’  
Isadas grinned. ‘You’re with Spartans now, Alexios. Relax. Everything's organised.’  
Alexios snorted. ‘If you say so. Let’s get going, then.’

As the moon sank below the horizon that night, Alexios and Isadas crouched on the mountainside above the stronghold, mentally preparing for what lay ahead. They could see some movement below, but it was as quiet as it had been the night Alexios had come to fetch Thaletas. He shook his head. They really never learnt!  
Alexios was tense. While the plan was simple, it was also far more ruthless that even Alexios was used to. Archidemos and the council had emphasised that, because of the official peace, no one could be left alive to bear witness to what had happened. The Athenians would suspect the Spartans of course, but they had planned for that. The crates that Isadas had had brought to the Cryptic Cavern were filled with bandit gear. The krypteia and Alexios were dressed in it, so that if by some chance someone escaped alive, they would only have seen bandits; and they would plant enough items around the stronghold to support that interpretation.  
The stealthy nature of the plan – with so few against so many – made the krypteia the only choice for the job, being known amongst Spartans as the killers in the night.  
He saw the plan in his mind’s eye. Four of their number would approach the stronghold from the east, where they would attack the guards in the cave and, gods willing, wipe them out. They would then begin the task of getting the captives below ground out of their cages. Another four would swim across the inlet, and sweep through the tents, killing anyone they found there. Alexios and Isadas would meantime work downwards through the stronghold, picking off anyone in the upper levels.  
It was going to be carnage, but if Alexios for a moment felt himself regretting the plan, he forced himself to remember Thaletas the morning after he had been rescued; or the voices of the broken Spartans below ground when he had spoken to them.  
An eye for an eye - or many eyes for many eyes, in this case.  
When the moon had slipped completely behind the horizon, Alexios rested a hand briefly on Isadas’ shoulder, and he nodded. They went down the hillside in silence, and slipped over the wall.  
There was something about working in this way - silent, stealthy - that took Alexios into a different mind space. He stabbed a guard, then before the other guard noticed, he’d speared him too. Alexios and Isadas slipped down the stairs, Isadas taking out the guard at the foot.  
Every sound was heightened, every flicker of light sharper, more intense, Alexios thought, as he slipped along a rampart, throwing his spear into guard after guard, before ducking into deep shadow.  
Sometimes he felt himself moving like fluid - like honey perhaps, he thought abstractly, as he slipped over a wall, and dropped onto a guard below, killing him with little more than a muffled grunt. Though not sweet, he added.  
He had never worked with someone as efficient as Isadas, though come to that, he had never really worked in this way with anyone at all, he realised. Stealth had always seemed like the task of the lone soldier. Isadas was showing him he had been wrong about that.  
It was like seeing himself from the outside, he thought, as he finished off a couple of men asleep on the ramparts while Isadas cut the throat of another who turned the corner right into his arms. Brutal, efficient.  
At last they reached the main gates. There was only the sound of the popping of the torches there, but the evidence of the purge was everywhere – the shapes of slumped bodies identifiable here and there. Alexios said, ‘Go below. I’ll tell the crews at the dock to be prepared.’  
Isadas went away towards the cave mouth, and Alexios ran around the inlet and through the Cryptic Cavern. It was only when he reached the other end that he sensed that something was wrong.  
Keeping to the shadows, he looked out of the cave mouth at the two boats tied alongside the dock, and spotted a handful of, presumably, Athenians clustered around the captain of one of the ships, shouting at him to explain what he was doing there.  
Alexios frowned. How had that happened? Where had they come from? Certainly not from the stronghold; but then he saw a couple of lights from boats anchored a short way away, and realised that they must be the crew of a naval patrol. They must have been circling the island, impossible to notice with their civilian sails.  
Alexios cursed himself for not thinking of that possibility.  
He watched, wondering whether he should intercede or not. The captain was looking up at his interrogator belligerently, but kept repeating, ‘I’m just here to collect a shipment, bound for Thasos. I can’t speak to the polemarch until morning.’  
His questioner said, ‘Then I’ll go and check with the polemarch, shall I?’  
‘Do what you want,’ the captain replied, 'But I know he takes against being woken in the night.'  
Alexios had decided that the interrogator did not look like he was going to accept what he was being told, and had resolved to attack. He had just taken out the spear when he felt a hand on his elbow, and Isadas whispered, ‘Wait. There’s no hurry. It’s going to take some time to get the captives here – there are many who need to be carried. Let’s not make a fuss if we don’t need to.’  
Alexios nodded, just visible in the darkness, and sheathed the spear.  
The questioning carried on at the dock, while the captives slowly gathered behind Alexios and Isadas in the cave. Isadas moved back to each new arrival, whispering what was happening, while Alexios watched the Athenian move on to the captain of the second ship, then each member of the crews in turn, looking for a crack in their story; but they had been well drilled, and gave nothing away.  
Alexios noticed the first faint hints of morning in the sky, and realised the Athenian had intentionally dragged it out, because he looked pleased with himself when he looked up and said, ‘It’s morning,’ to the first captain. ‘You come with me. We’ll go and speak to this Polemarch.’  
Alexios caught Isadas’ eye, and he nodded. Moving to one side of the cave mouth, Alexios waited. The captain came into the cave first, caught sight of Alexios out of the corner of his eye, and grinned; then the questioner entered. He saw the misthios too late to do more than gasp.  
The krypteia had joined them by then, whispering to Isadas that all the captive were there.  
Alexios said, ‘We have to get rid of their boats. I’ll go along the coast and fetch the Adrestia. You take care of the men on the dock.’  
Isadas agreed, and Alexios dashed away down the cave tunnel.

The Adrestia made short work of the two pentercosters; and by then, the krypteia had despatched the remaining Athenians on the dock, throwing their bodies to the sharks. The slow process of loading the men onto the two boats had begun.  
Alexios left the Adrestia in Barnabas’ hands in case further patrols arrived, and swam ashore to assist.  
Now that he was seeing the men in daylight, he was appalled at the state of them. Many were barely dressed, and all of them looked like they hadn’t been fed in weeks. Many had untreated wounds; missing eyes; limbs that had broken and never been set, so they had healed at odd angles. It was enough to make the gods weep.

When he was back aboard the Adrestia, and the small flotilla was on its way towards Sparta, Alexios said to Barnabas, ‘I have seen some pitiful sights in my life, but nothing prepared me for those men.’  
Barnabas nodded. ‘You have done a great thing here today, Alexios.’  
Alexios nodded, though as always, his feelings were more ambiguous than Barnabas assumed them to be. He felt world-weary, more than anything.  
‘You take the helm,’ he said to Barnabas, ‘I’m exhausted.’  
Barnabas looked at him with concern, as Alexios so rarely slept on the ship. Alexios saw the look and said as reassuringly as he could, ‘I’m just tired, Barnabas.’  
As he rolled himself in a bear pelt and closed his eyes, he knew he hadn’t been convincing. The truth was, he was feeling bleak. When would the world be such that he didn’t need to save anyone – a personal mission that only ever seemed to end in more death?  
He was acutely conscious that he was growing older, and he had started to crave real, personal peace. A quiet house with Thaletas; taking small, quiet jobs to pay the bills – maybe beating a few bandits or pirates, delivering herbs for timid healers, hunting food for injured villagers, that kind of thing.  
As he drifted off, he thought he saw a willow tree, its leaves dipping into a pool or river beneath it, the sun glinting like precious gems off the water; beyond was a mountain chain, richly clothed in green trees. He wondered where that was… but sleep took him before he could answer his own question.


	13. The Homecoming

Alexios was glad he had fallen into that bone-weary sleep, because for the next three days, he had little time to rest as the Adrestia escorted the two boatloads of rescued Spartans home. They battled their way south along the east coast of the mainland, forced by circumstance to take a longer course than was really desirable considering the condition of the rescued men; but they had to take measures to minimise the risk of being stopped or attacked.  
Their first real obstacle was the necessity to avoid Euboea, which was Athenian to the core; this brought them close to Delos, which had its own dangers for the Adrestia, whose commander, it became very clear, was still very much persona non grata there. Three Delian ships sailed out when the island hove into view. They had a tense few moments, Alexios thinking that they would attack; but they were only posturing, and turned back to blockade the dock. Alexios had shaken his head sadly; so, he thought; Kyra really hadn’t forgiven him.  
The roughest part of the journey though was the following day. They were forced to risk a course to the east of Keos - the pirates that filled those waters were the lesser of two evils, when the other course would’ve taken them far too close to the Attika coast, past Cape Sounion. They had considered taking a course via Samos, but that would have added days to the journey, days that some of the rescued men couldn’t afford.  
It was about as bad as Alexios had expected. The Adrestia fought off six pirate ships that day - mostly small, swift boats, the kind that made the Adrestia feel like a cumbersome tub to steer, and the rowers painfully slow. The last of these they managed to pick off just as a storm swept unseasonably out of the north west, blowing them off course, towards Paros. It wasn’t an entirely bad thing though, Alexios reflected. The two boats with the Spartans aboard were too small to traverse such heavy seas so they’d never have made it to Melos in that weather, even had the wind been obliging. They anchored in the shelter of Paros, as close to the island as they could safely get, and settled in for a wet and miserable night.  
The following morning was beautiful and clear. They set out at dawn, cutting across to Melos, then turning south. This part of the sea was firmly in Spartan hands, and they could at last relax. 

They reached Gytheion with no further trouble, the two transport boats docking, and the Adrestia dropping anchor not too far from the shore.  
‘I’ve never been so happy to complete a mission in my life,’ Alexios said to Barnabas when they had gained land, and stood watching the rescued captives file off the boats.  
There was an emotional atmosphere at the port. Word had travelled quickly up to the city, and it seemed like all of Sparta had come to see the rescued men, all hoping that their lost loved ones might be there, searching every face as they stepped ashore for those they had thought long gone down to Hades.  
The reunited were noisily oblivious to the world. There were sobbing women and crying children everywhere; men smothering tears, with set jaws; fathers embracing sons, and wives embracing husbands; brothers clasping hands with brothers. Their joy was of a kind impossible to describe.  
Alexios would never forget that day, that moment of homecoming for sixty-five lost souls, just as he would never forget his first view of the poor creatures.  
Barnabas said, ‘Now do you see I’m right? You did a good thing on Lemnos.’  
Alexios gave him half a smile. ‘Alright, I see it.’  
A man he did not know approached him. ‘Alexios?’  
‘Yes?’  
‘I’ve come from King Archidemos. He requests your attendance at the throne room as soon as possible.’  
Alexios nodded. ‘I’ll go at once.’  
He took a moment to seek out Isadas, who was still shepherding men off one of the boats. He called up from the dock, ‘The King has sent for me; I’m going up to the city. Will you be staying in Sparta tonight?’  
‘Yes,’ he called back. He caught a man who had stumbled and righted him again, before he said, ‘I’ll find you for a wine later.’  
Alexios nodded, and whistled for Phobos.

The doors of the throne room were thrown open, and Archidemos was standing in the forecourt, chatting with a handful of ephors. When he saw Alexios, he stepped towards him and clasped hands. ‘You succeeded. Congratulations. Sparta owes you.’  
‘No, Sparta owes me nothing. Consider it a gift from a loyal subject to his country.’  
Archidemos couldn’t help arching his brow a little at this, and Alexios couldn’t help grinning.  
The king said, ‘Then Sparta thanks you, instead.’  
Alexios bowed respectfully, and was dismissed.

He went directly from this brief interview to the house of Leonidas. He found Nikolaos at home, and to his surprise, Stentor as well.  
He clasped hand with his pater, then his brother.  
‘A hero again,’ Nikolaos said in his low, gruff voice, full of pride. ‘You seem to have made a habit of that.’  
Stentor did his best not to scowl; he had never adjusted to Alexios getting their father’s attention and love, but he was trying. He said, ‘Congratulations.’  
Alexios shook his head. ‘Thanks - but I’m no hero; I was just doing what's right. Where’s Mater?’  
Nikolaos said, ‘She’s gone down to Gytheion with Elene. You must have missed them in the crowd.’  
He noticed Stentor colour at the mention of Elene’s name. Alexios grinned. ‘You’ve met the spitfire then, brother?’  
Stentor was embarrassed. ‘Yes, of course. I’ve been back for three days, and she’s always here.’  
Alexios couldn’t tell if he was flushed because he liked her, or if he was embarrassed because he was expected to like her and didn’t, but he dared not ask in front of Nikolaos. His pater’s expression hadn’t changed as he looked from one son to the other. Alexios realised he wasn’t even listening to them. He raised an enquiring eyebrow. ‘What is it, Pater?’  
Nikolaos smiled then, his dry, restrained smile. ‘I couldn’t be prouder to call you both my sons.’  
Alexios chuckled. ‘Thank you,’ he said, resting an affectionate hand on his shoulder. ‘This son is going to lay down. It’s been a long few days, and I’ll be leaving early in the morning tomorrow.’  
‘Your mater will want to have a celebratory meal tonight,’ Nikolaos called after him as he ducked out the door towards the adjoining building where he slept.  
‘I’ll be here,’ he called back.

Alexios woke to late afternoon sun streaming through the open door. The room was stifling, which had probably woken him. He stood and stretched, touching the ceiling as he did so. He would go to the river and wash, he thought. He smelt of sweat and the sea.  
Taking only his spear with him, he ambled down past the stables, patting Phobos on the nose affectionately as he passed, and then went down the main thoroughfare towards the south, the temples on the acropolis behind him. The people from the port had made it back to the city by then, and everywhere he looked he noticed that the weeping from the port had become laughing and singing in the city. He smiled, passing unnoticed in his plain red tunic. He allowed himself a short moment of thinking that he had made people’s lives better, even if he would never entirely shake the shadow of knowing what all this happiness had really cost.  
He immersed himself in the river, and laid back. It was nice to be clean again, the water washing over him, though it did remind him of the night Demosthenes had approached him back in Athens, more than eighteen months before. He hated that general for what he had done to Thaletas, but if he hadn’t taken that bounty, he wouldn’t be....  
He stopped himself following the thought. He knew you could do that with any event in your life. Everything that happened seemed integral to what came next, but of course it wasn’t. There was much that had happened in his life that he could have done without, and he still would have been right where he was.  
He stood up then and shook the water from his hair, and such bleak thoughts from his head. The air was beginning to cool as the sun sank behind the Helot Hills. As he made his way back to the house of Leonidas, he thought that if anything, there were more people carousing in the streets than before. It was going to be one of those nights.  
He found Stentor alone, sitting on a stool in the forecourt.  
‘I wondered where you were,’ Stentor said, frowning slightly. ‘Have you been in the river?’  
Alexios said, ‘After three days at sea, I was as salty as a Lokrian. Has pater gone?’  
Stentor nodded with one of his sour smiles. ‘One of his cronies came to fetch him. There’s a special meeting of the council there. They’ve decided to have an engraving made on bronze of the name of the nine men who freed the prisoners on Lemnos. I’m told it will be placed in the temple of Athena Chalkioikos.’ He placed extra emphasis on the word ‘nine.’  
Alexios raised an eyebrow with a slight smile. ‘You really need to work on your jibes. Barbs are meant to be subtle, brother.’ He brought another stool from inside, and propped himself up beside Stentor. ‘While I have you alone, I have to ask: are you going to marry Elene?’  
He flushed again, just as he had when she was mentioned earlier. ‘I thought she was meant for you, until I came home this time.’ He paused, cleared his throat, then said, ‘Frankly, she’s a little terrifying.’  
Alexios laughed heartily. ‘Isn’t she? I don’t know what Pater was thinking.’  
He smiled. ‘Well - imagine what Myrrine must have been like as a young woman...’  
Alexios laughed again. ‘You’re absolutely right! He’s probably puzzled at our lack of interest.’  
Stentor glanced at him hopefully. ‘I could see you managing her.’  
Alexios shook his head. ‘Even if I wanted to, she loathes me.’  
‘Yes,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘She has made it clear she doesn’t like your friends.’  
‘And I don’t like her, so there we are. She’s all yours!’  
‘Thanks,’ he grumbled.  
‘Am I interrupting?’ Isadas asked. Like Nikolaos, he walked silently, even in Sparta.  
Alexios grinned up at him. ‘Not at all. Take my stool, I’ll get another.’  
When they were all seated, Isadas said, ‘I’m sorry they did that to you.’  
Alexios frowned. ‘What do you... oh. The engraving.’ He waved a hand in dismissal. ‘I’m not really Spartan enough for that. It’s fine.’  
‘I brought wine to make amends,’ Isadas said, ‘if you have cups?’  
Stentor fetched three beakers from inside, and Isadas mixed the drinks and handed them out. Then he asked, ‘You’ll be going back to Phokis tomorrow, I suppose?’  
Alexios nodded. ‘First thing in the morning.’  
Stentor asked, ‘What’s in Phokis?’  
Alexios said, as casually as he could, ‘A friend of mine, Isadas’ brother, is recovering from pretty serious injuries there.’  
‘You mean Thaletas?’ Stentor asked. Alexios had forgotten that his unusual brother had a memory for names and family trees like some kind of almanac.  
‘The very one,’ Isadas said.  
‘I heard he’s become a mercenary,’ Stentor said, with only the slightest hint of disapproval in his voice. ‘I suppose you persuaded him, Alexios?’  
He shook his head. ‘He decided. He has a limp from a wound gained in battle; the army won’t return him to active service, and he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life at the gymnasium.’ He shrugged. ‘What would you do?’  
Stentor said sniffily, ‘Well, I wouldn’t become a Misthios, that much I know.’  
‘That’s just as well; you wouldn’t last long!’  
Isadas laughed. ‘Brothers! All the same, the Greek world over!’  
A husky, female voice came from the darkness. ‘And what about sisters?’ Kassandra came into the circle of torchlight. She was dressed in full armour, as always. ‘Are we so different?’  
‘You’re certainly an exceptional case,’ Alexios said with a wary grin. You never knew what kind of mood Kassandra would be in, and he was always careful with her. ‘How are you?’  
She shrugged. ‘I’m always the same, brother mine. Where’s Mater?’  
‘With Elene,’ Stentor said. Isadas glanced at him with a smile lurking on his lips.  
Kassandra rolled her eyes. ‘Why does that girl hang around here?’  
‘Because Stentor’s going to marry her,’ Alexios said.  
Kassandra laughed as Stentor punched Alexios in the shoulder, then corrected, ‘Because Pater is determined one of us should marry her, and Alexios has said no.’  
Kassandra looked with amusement from one brother to the other. ‘Then it sounds like you’ve drawn the short straw, Stentor.’  
Stentor just looked sour, and Kassandra turned to Isadas. ‘Who are you, anyway?’  
Isadas had been looking her over as she’d been speaking with her brothers. She looked nothing like Alexios, he decided, but bore more than a passing resemblance to Myrrine. She had a pugnacious look about her, and a restless energy that was similar to Alexios, but different somehow. ‘I’m Isadas of Mesoa.’  
She frowned lightly. ‘Why do you look familiar?’  
Alexios said quietly, ‘You met Thaletas during the winter. Isadas is his brother. They resemble one another.’  
Something danced in her eyes for a moment as her gaze met Alexios’; but she said, ‘That’ll be it.’ She smiled at Isadas. ‘I guess that means you’re basically one of the family then. Welcome to the fold.’ Without saying anything further, she went inside.  
Stentor frowned at Alexios. ‘What did she mean by that?’  
Alexios shrugged. ‘How should I know? You understand her as little as I do!’  
Stentor grumbled again, and then stood, draining off his beaker. ‘I’m going to the mess. Thanks for the wine.’

When he was gone, Alexios noticed that Isadas had grown thoughtful. ‘What is it?’ he asked.  
Choosing his words carefully, he said, ‘Thaletas disclosed certain things to me while I was in Phokis.’ He met Alexios’ eyes meaningfully.  
Alexios looked back warily, understanding him perfectly. ‘I see.’  
Keeping his voice low, Isadas said, ‘I don’t judge, but I did encourage him to talk to his mother. I encourage you to do the same.’  
Alexios sighed. ‘I did. She tells me I should be a ‘good Spartan’: marry and be discrete.’ He shook his head. ‘But I can’t.’ He glanced at Isadas and was surprised to see he was smiling. ‘What is it?’  
‘He said the exact same thing.’  
Alexios smiled back. ‘He did? Well, that’s decisive.’  
‘You doubted him?’  
He thought about that for a moment before he said, ‘I suppose it’s only that it’s been more difficult for him. He was already a good Spartan.’  
Isadas looked thoughtful again. ‘I’m not sure about that. He might have been as a child, I suppose; but I always saw a softness in him. He tried to cover it with the mask - the talk and attitude, just what was expected of him. He did it well, with total conviction, but I was his brother. I could see what others didn’t.’ Alexios nodded; he realised that he, too, had seen the truth of Thaletas that Isadas was talking about. From their first meeting, he'd seed the act but never bought it. Perhaps it was because they had that in common, he thought; the same hidden softness beneath the layers of assumed bravado.  
Isadas drained his cup and filled it again before he continued. ‘I’m not surprised that the mask slipped, though. It was always going to happen, one way or another. Some men are born soldiers, born Spartan soldiers. Others can only play the part. The cracks had started to show years ago. I suppose I noticed them for the first time when I saw him on Naxos, in the eighth year of the war...’ He noticed Alexios’ expression change at that, and raised a brow in inquiry.  
‘That was the year after we met,’ Alexios said softly. ‘It changed a lot of things.’  
Isadas leant back on his stool, both eyebrows raised. ‘I didn’t realise.’ He frowned. ‘Wasn’t he in a relationship with the leader of the Delos Islands then?’  
Alexios sighed. ‘Yes. I was a violent disruption in what had been, until then, a peaceful courtship.’  
They fell silent for a moment, Isadas studying Alexios’ face as he stared out over the city, the warm night air filled with voices from below.  
Isadas suddenly asked, ‘Do you really think Stentor will marry Elene?’  
‘By the gods I hope so,’ Alexios said with a grin. ‘Family gatherings will be such colourful events if they do!’  
Isadas laughed. ‘Maybe then she will have someone to hate more than me.’  
Alexios patted him on the shoulder. ‘Without a doubt. Stentor’s a moody malaka; she’s baleful and angry. They’ll have as much resentment between them within a month as most couples accrue in a whole lifetime; but don’t feel bad for them. I think they’ll both enjoy that.’  
Isadas laughed and shook his head. ‘It takes all types, I suppose.’

Thaletas had at last been allowed to leave his bed. The bruises and minor wounds that had covered him from head to foot had all healed, with the exception of a particularly deep cut below his left kneecap, which due to its location, split regularly.  
His more serious traumas, though, were naturally taking longer. The ‘C’ shaped wound to his head, just above his right ear, had scabbed over now, but Lykaon still checked it daily.  
His real trouble was his arm. The femur had been broken, and the whole arm severely dislocated at the shoulder; and although it had been put back in place while he was unconscious, it had remained bruised and swollen much longer than Lykaon believed it should have. He’d thought Thaletas would have been up exercising it at least a week earlier, but each day he’d looked it over with a worried crease between his brows and shaken his head. The arm was tied into a splint, and Lykaon had told him it would be the end of autumn before he could even think about taking it out - that had been a blow.  
As he took his first hobble out the door in more than four weeks, though, Thaletas didn’t worry about any of that. He was just glad to have left that one small room at last.  
He looked around curiously. It was strange to have stayed in a place so long, but never have seen more of it than could be glimpsed out a door. The Chora wasn’t the prettiest of places. The door opened onto a dusty road which ran down a hill towards olive trees - rows and rows of olive trees. The sun was just above the horizon, peeping above some steep mountains in the direction of Delphi. He limped around the house to the other side, where the doctor had his clinic, which was even less appealing, so he hobbled back again. Lykaon had placed a stool beside the door, and Thaletas carefully lowered himself onto it.  
He closed his eyes, enjoying the sun, and the breeze on his face. The birds were calling in the olive trees; in the distance a girl was singing sweetly.  
It had been ten days since he’d seen Isadas, and more since Alexios had left.  
He tried not to worry - it did no good; instead he focussed on the happy memories: The afternoon in Delos, that first, small germ of warmth that he had held to his heart and protected for seven years; then that night in Sparta, the air as sharp and cold as a diamond, but the warmth of being near one another again, the germ then a glowing coal, a tentative beginning of something greater; then those blessed nights of frantic exploratory love in the cave outside Sparta, as they had fanned that coal into flames that licked at them both with growing intensity; and finally, the afternoon and night spent together on Chios marked the moment when their feelings had transformed, leaving behind that first heady stage of love, becoming something deeper, more secure – the banked fire of the hearth.  
A tender smile was playing on his lips.  
‘I hope that’s me you’re thinking of,’ Alexios said huskily.  
Thaletas’ eyes flew open, and he stood too quickly. His knee objected and he winced. ‘Alexios!’  
Alexios chuckled and caught him in his arms. Thaletas pressed his face into Alexios’ chest; absurdly he began to laugh with happiness, but at the same time, he had a lump in his throat. Alexios thought there were tears, though Thaletas would never admit it later. They held each other for a long time, right there on the step; Thaletas gripping Alexios tightly with his good arm, almost as if he was afraid he would disappear if he didn’t hold on as tightly as he could; and Alexios very carefully, one arm around Thaletas’ shoulders, the other holding his head to his chest, as though he were sheltering a small bird; his own head bowed, his forehead resting against Thaletas’ hair, the scent filling his nostrils – lavender, he thought, and other herbs from the sickroom.  
The villagers passed to and fro, eyeing them with either a smile or a scandalised raised eyebrow, depending on their opinions of such things.  
At last Thaletas drew away. ‘Come in,’ he said, and led Alexios inside. After he’d pushed the door closed, he looked up at the handsome face, checking him over for signs of injury, and saw none. He could scarcely believe he was there at last. ‘Did the plan work? Is Isadas OK?’  
Alexios gently pulled Thaletas close to himself once more, resting his hand tenderly on one side of his face, running a thumb along his cheekbone. His eyes were devouring the lines of his features, his look full of passion, love, longing. Thaletas held his gaze, his own gaze answering love for love.  
Alexios mumbled, ‘Yes and yes,’ before he lowered his head and reclaimed Thaletas’ mouth... Thaletas’ heart... Thaletas.

Some time later, Alexios laid with his head propped up on one arm, looking over Thaletas’ chest, newly lined with scars. He would never get tired of looking at his lean, athletic lines, his golden skin. Even the scars seemed to make him more perfect. He traced a finger along one raised line that traversed his body from one side to the other, terminating just beneath one of his nipples. As Alexios’ finger reached the end of the scar, the nipple peaked. ‘The gods must envy you,’ he said softly.  
With his eyes closed, smiling, Thaletas said, ‘If they do, it’s only because I have you all to myself.’  
Alexios chuckled, and kissed the nipple before rolling onto his back.  
Thaletas watched him shifting about, and asked, ‘You said you were successful. Tell me about it?’  
Alexios looked at him with something in his expression Thaletas hadn’t seen before.  
‘Now?’ he asked.  
Thaletas was surprised by the reluctance in his voice, and wondered where that was coming from; Alexios was not usually reticent. Gently, he said, ‘If you’d rather not just now, it can wait.’  
Alexios smiled gratefully. ‘I’ll tell you tomorrow. For tonight, I just want to be with you.’  
After a comfortable silence, Alexios turned his head to face Thaletas. ‘I’ve been thinking.’  
Thaletas smiled. ‘Yes?’  
‘It’s going to take you a long time to recover; you said your arm won’t be free of these sticks until the end of autumn, right? Then there’s winter.’ He paused, and took Thaletas’ good hand in his, and kissed it. Their eyes met and held as Alexios continued. ‘I was thinking that perhaps we might find somewhere to stay while you recover - somewhere that isn’t Sparta. I was thinking Arkadia. There’s a village I know of there, Stymphalos. It’s quiet, out of the way – a beautiful part of the world.’  
Thaletas smiled gently. ‘You want to hibernate with me, like bears?’  
Alexios grinned. ‘Well, I suppose we did spend most of last winter in a cave.’  
Thaletas chuckled. ‘I’d like nothing better.’ He kissed Alexios warmly, softly.  
After a moment, he sighed, and said, ‘Then, come spring when I’m healed, we’ll have to go to Sparta.’ He looked at Alexios with a mixture of feelings fleeting across his face – fear, sadness, but also determination. ‘I have to tell Mater about us.’  
Alexios rolled onto his side again, putting his arm around him and kissing his shoulder. He looked into his eyes, and smiled gently. ‘We’ll do it together – your Mater, my Pater.’  
Thaletas was afraid he was going to cry again; he tried to squash the feeling, but tears stood in his eyes as he said, ‘I can’t tell you how much I love you, Alexios.’  
Alexios swallowed heavily as a wash of intense feeling coursed through him. He’d never felt such exquisite happiness. Huskily, he said, ‘You don’t need to; I already know, because I feel it too.’  
They kissed each other then with aching tenderness; both men melting into each other before the banked fire that was their love, their true home.


End file.
